


C'mon (I'd Like To Believe)

by vintagenoise



Series: Young Volcanoes [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Not a polyamory endgame), Accusations of Infidelity, Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Artist!Dean, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Classism, Coming Out, Communication, Heteronormativity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, POV Third Person Limited, Polyamory Negotiations, Questioning, Rich!Castiel, Sexual Confusion, Slow Burn, Slut Shaming, Small Towns, Summer, Unreliable Narrator, nerd!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 87,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagenoise/pseuds/vintagenoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other. This is a Destiel love story, in seven parts.</p><p>Summer 2008: Castiel Milton is very, very confused. The dream he never dared to entertain has somehow come true: his best friend, Dean Winchester, admitted to having feelings for him last summer, and is interested in pursuing a more romantically-inclined relationship. Problem is, Dean has hurt Castiel in the past, and as much as Castiel likes to think he has forgiven, he hasn't forgotten. It's hard enough to expose and move past old scars without Dean being so distractingly affectionate, and becomes even harder when those scars are prodded by the discovery of what Dean got up to while Castiel was away at school. To top it all off, Castiel's mother has finally retired, and is looking to spend more time with her youngest children than she has in years... The last summer before college was supposed to be a lot easier than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience! The holidays ended up being much more stressful than anticipated, but part four is finally here! 
> 
> Of course, **manymanymany** thanks to [castielflowercrowns](http://castielflowercrowns.tumblr.com) for pulling beta duty, but also thanks to those of you who were so understanding and supportive on tumblr when I needed you to be. I really appreciate everything you guys have done to prod me along, and I'm so _grateful_ for my incredibly wonderful readers! You are all beautiful people, and I love every single one of you.
> 
>  
> 
> **If this is your first time here, I definitely recommend reading parts[one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1448572), [two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1775077), and [three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2259525) first!**
> 
>  
> 
> As before, the implied/referenced character death is only for the prologue - this should be the last time I have to say that though, because I've pretty much decided there won't be anymore prologues for the rest of the series :) but for the first time, the rating _is_ earned with the first installment. I thought it would be a nice surprise, haha ;) The accusations of infidelity is a poor description of what actually occurs, but it's the best I could think of - Castiel and Dean (and others) have an on-going discussion about what counts as infidelity and what doesn't. imo no actual infidelity occurs, but Castiel disagrees, and since this part is from his POV... there we are, lol. The slut-shaming is more teasing with poorly-chosen language, and I'm hoping to address it in the second installment but it depends on how the chosen scene turns out - it's not the point of the scene so it's not a priority, but if I can squeeze it in, I will. 
> 
> The playlist is **[here](http://www.last.fm/user/vintage-noise/library/playlists/6yzx5_c%2527mon_%2528i%2527d_like_to_believe%2529)** for your enjoyment :) If you have Spotify, you should just be able to click a song and have the playlist pop up there. I highly, _highly_ recommend the ending song, "[Hallowed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7il8BoLwI4)" by La La Lush - they don't get the attention they deserve so please check them out!

_So wake me up when it’s all over_   
_When I’m wiser and I’m older_   
_All this time I was finding myself_   
_And I didn’t know I was lost_

**Wake Me Up** , Aloe Blacc

 

**January 20th, 2010**

Balthazar pulls up to the curb and sighs, turning to watch as Castiel gathers his carry-on and double-checks his wallet and phone.

“You’ll be careful, yeah?” Balthazar asks. Castiel pauses, his hand on the door, and frowns slightly.

“Careful?” he repeats, glancing at his friend. Balthazar tightens his lips, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Yes. Just.” Balthazar swallows before laughing softly. “Funerals aren’t exactly a picnic, and I can’t imagine Dean’s holding up well.” He meets Castiel’s eyes briefly, then nods, like he’s confirming something. “So be careful.”

Castiel isn’t quite sure he understands the warning, but he appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. “Okay,” he says, leaning over for an awkward hug before he gets out of the car. He pulls his suitcase from the trunk, and taps on the driver’s side window on his way back around the car, smiling as Balthazar only cracks it open. Cold is already biting into Castiel’s ears, so he doesn’t blame Balthazar for trying to keep the heat inside his car. “I’ll call you when I get back in town.”

“You’re only staying through the funeral?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Dean’s birthday is on Sunday, so I thought I’d stay at least through then.”

Balthazar’s eyes widen. “His _birthday_ -” He stops himself and whistles. “You take care of that boy, Castiel, you hear me? You take care of yourself, but keep an eye on him too.”

Castiel holds up a placating hand, nodding slightly. “I know. Better than you do.” He knocks on the car’s roof, jumping when the minivan behind them honks its horn, the driver waving in annoyance. “I’ll call you,” Castiel repeats. “Drive home safe.”

Balthazar nods and waves a hand, rolling the window back up and waiting for Castiel to step onto the sidewalk before pulling back out into traffic. Castiel watches until red taillights disappear into the morning fog, double-checks his wallet, phone, and luggage one more time, then heads inside.

O’Hare is far from his favorite place, but Castiel isn’t really fond of airports in general. Too many people, most of them rude, and the ever-present possibility of being poked or prodded or asked probing questions. He doesn’t mind flying, not the way Dean does, but he does wish sometimes that he had access to his uncle’s private jet.

He checks his luggage and picks up his boarding pass from a woman whose smile is far too big for a high-traffic customer service position at this time of morning. Kids and confused tourists walk at a snail’s pace across the concourse, and Castiel finds himself silently thanking the heavens that he bought first class tickets and doesn’t have to wait in the longer security line.

By the time Castiel has found his gate and taken a seat to wait, it’s almost 9 A.M. He stares out the window at the dissipating fog, then pulls out his phone, gently rubbing his thumb over the screen. He knows that, on a typical weekday, Dean should be awake by now. He knows that Dean likes to take his shower as soon as he rolls out of bed, then heads upstairs to start making a nice breakfast, which is ready by the time Sam gets up for school, so they can at least have that meal together. Then Sam goes to school, followed by soccer practice in the fall, or lacrosse practice in the spring, and Dean goes to the garage, occasionally followed by shifts at the Roadhouse.

Castiel closes his eyes and sighs. It’s ridiculous how well he knows the Winchester schedule, considering how rarely he’s actually seen his boyfriend over the year they’ve been together. Especially since that schedule doesn’t apply when Castiel and Dean are together.

It certainly doesn’t apply now.

Castiel hopes Dean is sleeping, but he sends off a text message anyway:

 

**Waiting to board, see you in a few hours**

 

He tightens his jaw and, for the first time in a long time, prays that Dean won’t answer.

When no response comes, Castiel leans back in his chair and opens the photo albums in his phone. This isn’t a habit he’ll admit to having, but he takes pictures of every sketch or doodle or painting Dean sends him, and likes to scan through them when he’s bored or upset or lonely.

Especially when he’s lonely.

Some of them are actual hard copies or canvases that Castiel just snapped a picture of for safekeeping, while others are pictures that Dean proudly texted to him, artwork that Castiel will never see in person because Dean still likes to give them away, no matter how much Castiel and Benny and Sonny tell him to hold onto his paintings for a portfolio or gallery.

Castiel loves Dean’s selflessness, no matter how annoying it can be.

He thumbs through the pictures, smiling to himself as he goes from five year-old pencil sketches of Batman, to more recent paintings, explosions of color and light that still manage to take shape in recognizable forms. Castiel particularly loves a portrait of Charlie, her hair a brilliant red as she cradles the Earth to her chest, her skin painted in the purples and blues and blacks of the night sky, dotted with stars and constellations. Charlie had been the one to text him this picture after her birthday in December, just to brag about it. Castiel didn’t see a reason to bring her down by showing her all the versions of himself that Dean has drawn over the years, especially since her painting is particularly beautiful.

Dean’s artwork speaks so much of his soul, of the way he views the world, and it kills Castiel a little that Dean doesn’t want to share that vision beyond his current circle of friends.

He wonders what Dean’s paintings will look like after the funeral. If he continues to paint at all.

His phone buzzes once, so Castiel goes back to his inbox to find a text from Dean, which he responds to right away:

**K Bobby’ll be there around noon. Ur staying with us.**

**I know. See you soon. Make sure you eat and sleep.**

Castiel can practically see Dean rolling his eyes and calling him a nag under his breath, and he smiles at the thought. Regardless of the circumstances, he does miss Dean, and is looking forward to seeing him again.

**Don’t tell me what to do.**

It’s all that Castiel expected. In fact, he’s almost glad to see such a Dean-like response, all things considered.

Castiel hesitates before responding, because this isn’t something they feel a need to say all the time. They learned years ago how to say it without saying it, to read between the lines of a text, or within the curves and colors of a painting.

But maybe Dean needs to hear it right now.

**I love you.**

Castiel doesn’t expect an answer, but one comes almost immediately.

**I know. I’m glad ur coming.**

Castiel sighs and smiles, shifting to look out at the tarmac, where a plane is taxiing up to the gate. Dean was never very good at saying those words even under better circumstances. This is good enough.


	2. Hot & Cold

_My just so, my last call_   
_My life is yours, in your gifted hands_   
_Confetti rainfall and the quiet streets_   
_These things I’ve found are special now_   
_The knot is in my reach_

“ **Chase This Light** ,” Jimmy Eat World

 

**May 30th, 2008**

A room of their own, at last.

Anna whoops, springing across the scarlet carpet and flopping down on the bed closest to the window, her luggage left tipped over by the door. Castiel rolls his eyes and rights it, carefully setting it next to his own in the entryway closet. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he warns. “Mother said she might come stay with us once Michael gets the hang of things.”

Anna blows a raspberry at the ceiling. “Don’t be a killjoy,” she says. “We still get to be on our own for a while. We can do whatever we want!” She sits up, beaming at him, even as her red hair spreads spidery with static behind her. “We can order room service and watch bad movies and stay in our pajamas-”

“Don’t be a homebody,” Castiel teases. “Don’t you want to see Charlie and Jo and-”

“Dean?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow at his sister’s smirk, then rolls his eyes. She’s been unbearable ever since he told her what happened last summer- leaving certain personal details out, of course. The whole school year she was always asking him if he’s heard from Dean lately, saying his name in a sing-song, smiling that crooked, know-it-all smile whenever she saw a new drawing hanging up by Castiel’s bed.

“Yes. And Dean.”

“Have you decided what you’re gonna tell him?” Anna asks as she stands, running a hand through her hair, gathering it over her shoulder.

Castiel busies himself in the mini-kitchen, turning his back on his sister and deciding that silence is the best answer. Because he doesn’t have one for Dean yet. All that time at school, and don’t think he didn’t spend most of it thinking about Dean and their relationship and where he wants it to go. Well, Castiel knows exactly where he wants things to go - he’s known since the first time he left Dean behind and realized just how much it hurt to be apart.

The hard part is convincing himself that he can actually have it. That Dean isn’t straight, that he really does feel the same way Castiel does, and that he’s not trying to hurt him. That he means it when he says he’ll never hurt Castiel again.

That’s the hardest part, to be completely honest.

Behind him, Anna sighs, and springs creak as she falls back onto her bed. “Are we gonna tell everybody we’re back and go party tonight, then?”

Without responding, Castiel reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his Blackberry. He scrolls between **Bradbury, Charlie** and **Harvelle, Jo** , before finally scrolling all the way down to **Winchester, Dean**.

 

 **From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**3:14pm**

**I’m back.**

 

The response is immediate.

 

 **From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:14pm**

**who else knows ur here???**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:14pm**

**got any plans???????**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:15pm**

**don’t make any plans!!! wanna c u tonite**

 

Heat flickers in Castiel’s cheeks, but he smiles at Dean’s enthusiasm anyway. Seeing the proof that he’s wanted makes his heart skip a few beats, and he struggles to shove away the feeling that he’s weak. It’s okay to want this too.

 

 **From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**3:16pm**

**You’re the first to hear. Should I come over?**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:16pm**

**I’ll pick u up! b ready at 6 ok dress nice**

 

Castiel takes a deep breath, surprised. The last thing he’d expected was for Dean to be so eager, right off the bat. His stomach swoops in a way that’s both exciting and nauseating, and Castiel is torn between trying to convince Charlie to help him break Dean’s plans, and tearing open his luggage to hunt down that dark blue dress shirt and the silver tie he wore to prom, the one that Anna and Meg said really made his eyes pop.

His phone shakes in his hands, and he realizes that it’s because he’s trembling. Anna appears at his side, blinking up at him, and he jumps when he notices her.

“What’s up?” she asks, too casual.

Castiel swallows. “I think Dean’s taking me on a date tonight.”

The immediate, cheerful smile that blossoms on Anna’s face is expected, as is her grabbing his arm and pulling him back towards the closet. “Then we need to pick out an outfit that’ll blow his mind.”

Castiel sighs and lets Anna take the lead. It’s easier than letting himself worry too much.

 

\-----

 

 **From: Dean**   
**To: Cas**   
**5:58pm**

**wait outside at the curb i’m leaving now**

 

Castiel considers sending back a text teasing Dean about bossy, but decides against it. Instead, he takes one more look at himself in the entryway mirror, checking his hair and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, like Anna had suggested. He tilts his head at his reflection, pleased that his eyes really do pop against this color. They look almost the same shade that Dean uses in his artwork, actually.

“I’m leaving,” he yells into the room, and when Anna yells back, “Okay, use protection!” he rolls his eyes and heads out to take the elevator down to the lobby, fiddling with his sleeves the entire time.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Dean. Of course he does. He always misses Dean during the school year, even the year he shut him out. It feels like a part of him is missing, and the thought of being reunited with Dean is almost a relief.

But it’s also nerve-wracking. This whole date idea is as terrifying as it is exciting.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets as he steps through the front door and goes to stand at the curb. One of the valets asks him which car is his, but Castiel waves him away, clarifying that he’s just waiting for someone.

He distracts himself by closing his eyes and trying to control his breathing, forcing himself not to think of tonight’s possible outcomes, be they good or bad. He tries to tell himself that no good can come of this, but still he’s out here, scuffing his shoe on the curb, eager to see how much Dean has grown, and the way he always smiles when he sees Castiel for the first time in ages.

“Thought that was you.”

Castiel turns his head, smirking, as Bela appears next to him. “What are you doing out here, troublemaker?” he asks, making her laugh softly.

“I was on my way to the tennis courts when I saw you out here and decided to come say hello.” She grins brightly and gives him a cheeky wave. “Hello. Why are you wearing a date shirt?”

Castiel glances down at his outfit again and shrugs, trying to appear far more casual than he feels. “Gonna go pick up lonely truck drivers on the interstate, obviously.”

Bela rolls her eyes and shoves him playfully, though he barely shifts under her touch. Sometimes it’s funny to think about the year they met, how skinny Castiel had been, and still small enough that he could meet Bela’s eyes when she wore low-heels. She’s filled out a little more and has decided to try having bangs, but otherwise looks mostly the same. Maybe that’s why it feels so weird to look down at her, to feel like he has to be careful not to crush her when they exchange a warm hug.

“I hope you’re not trying to impress anyone, because your hair is a wreck, darling,” Bela says when she pulls back, carefully adjusting the collar of his shirt. Now it’s Castiel’s turn to roll his eyes.

“It’s windy on the Oregon coast, I’m shocked,” he drawls, self-consciously running a hand through his hair anyway. “Between that and the length, I didn’t have a lot of options.”

“A haircut is an option,” Bela says innocently. “You look so much better with that neat, military cut.”

“I like it like this.”

“Hope your date does.” Bela steps back to cross her arms over her chest. “Anybody I know?”

Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but is distracted by the roar of an engine. Bela swears under her breath as they both turn to see a black behemoth of a car pulling into the parking lot. Castiel tilts his head, a thread of memory just out of reach, until he gets a glimpse of the driver.

"What the hell is that?" asks Bela.

Castiel's lips quirk up as he turns to her. "It's Dean."

She blinks up at him for half a second, before her pink lips from a little 'o' of surprise. "Wait, _Dean_ is-"

"You're not trying to make me jealous already, are you?"

Dean is grinning as he unfolds himself from the driver's seat, leaving the car idling as he walks around to join them. Bela's eyes dart from Dean to Castiel as a sly little smile appears on her face. She puts a hand on her hip and tosses her hair off her shoulder.

"You were already jealous of me, Winchester. Don't deny it."

Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head at her. "Why would I ever be jealous of you?"

She points at Castiel, who groans in exasperation. "Because I got there first."

"That's what you think," Dean shoots back. Between his confidence and Castiel's immediate blush, Bela's gasp is almost overkill.

"Scandal!" she shouts, slapping Castiel's arm. "You little shit! You're going to tell me _all_ about it, as soon as you tell me _all_ about what you and your new boyfriend get up to tonight."

She's grinning like a tiger toying with prey, and Castiel almost corrects her, almost tells her that Dean's not really his boyfriend. Not _yet_ , anyway.

But then he sees Dean's smile from the corner of his eye. It's soft and gentle, almost dreamy, those summer green eyes focused entirely on Castiel.

And Castiel is so weak. He's a puddle of useless gooey mush for this freckle-faced boy with paint and motor oil under his fingernails. And Dean looks so _good_ , in forest green flannel and dark jeans. New jeans. If Dean actually bought brand new jeans for this, then he’s more serious about Castiel than anticipated.

So Castiel smiles, reaching forward to cup his hand around the nape of Dean’s neck, pulling him in for a chaste, closed-mouth kiss. Bela reacts with dramatic disgust, as expected, but Dean just tenderly grips Cas’s arm, eyes searching and hopeful as Castiel leans back. There’s a vulnerability in that hope, and Castiel doesn’t want to see it. He doesn’t want to know that Dean is trusting him so much, because he’s not sure he can return the favor.

Still, he flips Bela off, just to hear her laugh, before wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, squeezing tight until Dean returns the affection. “It’s good to see you,” Castiel whispers, his chest warm and solid against Dean’s, and Dean chuckles into his neck.

“Glad to hear it,” he rumbles, voice deep and vibrating.

Castiel is a goner. There is no hope for him now. Even if he wants a little more time, just needs to figure himself out, Dean is just too addictive. He just feels too _good_.

“Get a room!”

Castiel turns to glare at Bela, but she just winks at him, and drags a hand across his back as she passes him. “I’m guessing you’ll be busy the rest of the summer,” she says, with a not-quite-subtle _look_ at Dean, “so I’ll see you whenever you need a break from freckles and satin sheets.”

“We’re not-” Castiel starts, but Bela has already turned away, waving over her shoulder, and Dean is immediately back in Castiel’s space, pressing their foreheads together. He’s a little taller than Castiel now, a little broader, though not enough to make Castiel feel small. In fact, it’s just about perfect, which Castiel doesn’t want to think about.

It’s hard to think about anything else, though, when Dean’s eyes are right there, pretty and green and framed by long lashes and so many freckles. Heat rises his Castiel’s cheeks, swoops through his belly, and he takes a step away from Dean before he can lose himself in this.

He has to be strong. Their situation isn’t quite as simple as saying yes and being in a relationship. Castiel could do that, and he absolutely wants to, but it wouldn’t be right. He’s still as scared of Dean as he is enamored with him, and he wants to be sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they’re both ready for all the baggage this relationship would carry with it.

But Dean just smiles and jerks his head towards the car. “C’mon, I’ve got reservations.”

“At the Roadhouse?” Castiel says, sliding into the passenger seat and biting back a smile as Dean rolls his eyes.

“I wanted to make this special, so Sonny helped me get reservations at the Bridgewater Bistro.” Dean shifts in his seat, putting the car into gear and heading out of the parking lot. Castiel raises his eyebrows when they turn left onto the interstate.

“In Astoria?”

Dean nods. “It’s probably not as fancy as you’re used to, but Sonny said we got a table looking out at the water, so we’ll be able to watch the sunset.” He glances at Castiel, clearing his throat before reaching over to slide their fingers together, gently gripping Castiel’s hand. “It’ll be nice. Right?”

Castiel squints at Dean, watching as his face turns pink and makes the freckles on his neck more apparent. Part of Castiel believes that this sort of thing is all that Dean knows - his only experience with a relationship is Lisa, who probably would have been sufficiently wooed by classic romance like sunsets over the ocean. And once they arrive, who knows? Maybe Castiel will be wooed as well.

Another part thinks that Dean actually enjoys this. That Dean is secretly, deep down in his noble heart, a hopeless romantic looking for a soulmate. And Castiel hates that it’s both terrifying and comforting that Dean might think he’s the one.

Castiel almost wishes they’d just gone to the Roadhouse. Not only because, at the very least, Ellen and Mary would be there to keep Dean from being too forward, but because Castiel is used to white tablecloths and beautiful views and overly formal waiters. He’s been doing that since he was old enough to hold a fork. The Roadhouse, rambunctious and wooden and warm, is something that Castiel looks forward to every time he comes to Sileas. It was the first thing he wanted to show to Meg when they arrived last year, though she hadn’t been quite so charmed by it.

That probably had something to do with Dean, but Castiel decided a long time ago that he would be keeping Meg and Dean firmly separate in his mind, because it only causes trouble when they mix.

Still, even if they hadn’t invited all their friends to join them, when Dean pulls into a gravel parking lot near the docks, just past the old tuna canning factory, Castiel kind of wishes their first date had just been a milkshake at the Roadhouse. He doesn’t want Dean to feel like he has to work so hard to impress him.

Dean is grinning, though, definitely excited, as they get out of the car, and as soon as Castiel is close enough, he immediately locks their hands together again. Castiel is unsurprised by this; he realized the first year he met this crew that they liked to touch, and later figured out that Dean was the most tactile of all. Besides, it’s not as though Castiel minds. Dean’s hands are strong and warm and rough, gently leading Castiel forward, and scared as he may be, Castiel would follow anywhere.

Once inside, they’re greeted by a cheerful hostess. She’s wearing black slacks and sensible shoes, and Castiel feels a brief twinge of guilt, reminded that this is what Dean considers a step up. God forbid he ever set foot in the restaurant at the resort. But the view from their table is as gorgeous as promised, and Dean looks amazing in the pink and purple light of the setting sun, even if he keeps tugging at the collar of his shirt and frowning at the limited menu.

After a few moments of this, Dean sighs and tosses the menu aside. “This was a stupid idea,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “So stupid. We can leave if you want? Go get Dutch Bros or-” He stops when Castiel reaches over and rests his hand over Dean’s, successfully stilling it.

“Dean, this is fine,” Castiel says, trying on a reassuring smile.

“I should have asked you first.” Dean’s gaze darts around the restaurant, stubbornly refusing to meet Castiel’s eyes. “I’m sorry. This doesn’t have to be a date or anything, if you don't want it to. I just wanted to get to talk to you before everyone else started fighting for your attention."

Castiel smiles despite himself; it's so easy to forget how disarming and earnest Dean can be in person. That his intentions are usually simple and pure, and maybe that's what Castiel adores most. He runs his thumb against the side of Dean's hand and wonders what he's been so afraid of. Dean has proven that he deserves a second chance, hasn’t he? And it's not like Castiel doesn't want to have as much of this as possible, before his chance disappears.

"Let's just not worry about labels," Castiel offers, drawing his hand back and returning his attention to the menu. “Why don’t you tell me about your new car?” He fights to keep a grin off his face as he teases, “It’s certainly an upgrade from that death trap you drove before.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean groans, but he quickly engages Castiel in the story of how his father finally came through for him on a promise, driving all the way out from Kansas to drop his 1967 Chevy Impala off for Dean’s eighteenth birthday.

It’s a little funny how many of the big stories they end up missing. They e-mailed each other over the school year, texted, talked on the phone, but it’s always little details that come up in those conversations. Castiel would take bad pictures of butterflies and squirrels and the New York skyline to e-mail to Dean, while Dean responded with talk about Sam’s big score at a game, or the new paints he was able to buy with Sonny’s discount. And sometimes, late at night, one of them might even be bold enough to send a text saying how much he missed the other.

But Castiel is sure, they were both so busy avoiding the big conversation that they avoided other big conversations. Like Dean’s car, and his father’s tumultuous visit, full of slamming doors and whispered arguments, but Dean still smiles when he talks about how his father hugged him good-bye.

Like Gabriel standing up to Naomi and threatening to abandon her the way Lucifer did unless she let him use what was left of his college fund to open a bakery in New Orleans, and how Castiel was allowed to visit him for spring break, and help him make devil’s food cupcakes, and sugar cookies shaped like _fleurs-de-lis_.

Like their prom tales, how Dean took Jo and she was so excited she tripped on the stairs coming in and ripped her dress, but when Victor stole her for a dance, she was suddenly all smiles again. How Cas took Anna but after meeting up with Uriel, Balthazar, Meg, and a few other friends, they all ditched and took a night out in the city, sneaking into clubs and everyone but Castiel ended up having just a little too much to drink.

The catching-up exchange continues, falling into something comfortable, as the sun sets and their food comes and goes. Castiel teases Dean about ordering a burger at a seafood restaurant, and Dean jokes that at least he won’t have ocean breath the rest of the night.

Castiel laughs until he realizes what Dean’s insinuating, and he blushes pink in the candlelight. Dean almost doesn’t notice, until he does, and promptly drops his burger back onto his plate, clearing his throat and avoiding Castiel’s gaze. Castiel waits for awkwardness to settle in, but to his surprise, it doesn’t. Dean won’t look at him, but that’s endearing, and instead, Castiel finds himself warming to his friend all the more, reaching across the table to grab his attention, and smiling sweetly when Dean finally chances a glance.

“That’s what Altoids are for,” Castiel says seriously. Dean blinks, processing that statement, before a grin spreads across his face, wide and cocky.

“Eat up, then,” he says, his voice rumbling up from deep in his chest. “You’re gonna need your energy.”

Dinner is a much quieter affair after that, both of them preoccupied with finishing their meals as quickly as possible, and pretending they’re not leering at one another in the candlelight. Castiel finishes first, and makes a big show out of pulling a tin of Altoids from his back pocket and popping one into his mouth. Dean laughs at him, but quickly resumes eating, fast enough that he's probably not even tasting it anymore.

After the bill is settled (by a stubborn, pushy Dean, who did not at all appreciate Castiel's rolled eyes and crossed arms), they head back out to the Impala. She is a vision in the moonlight, and when Dean reverently drags his fingertips across her hood, Castiel doesn't even think to tease him for his affections. She means more to Dean than most people would understand, than even Castiel can understand, and he would never dream of deriding Dean for it.

Dean doesn't reach for Castiel's hand once they're in the car and back on the interstate. Castiel misses his touch, but says nothing of it, instead leaning his forehead against the window to watch the scenery go by.

After a moment, Dean not-so-casually comments, "I know that's not your usual standard of quality as far as fancy eats go, but-"

"Dean." Castiel turns to look at him, though Dean doesn't take his eyes from the road. "It was great."

"I just mean, you're probably more used to sushi and sake, but we'd have to go to Portland for that."

"I wouldn't mind," Castiel says honestly. "Except the sake part. That's definitely not my thing."

Dean's lips twitch upwards. "Yeah?"

"Did you forget the part of my prom story where I was the one laughing while Balthazar and Uriel thought they were dying?"

"You're cold as ice, Castiel James Milton," but Dean is grinning anyway, his teeth almost glowing in the moonlight, and maybe the easy atmosphere is why Castiel thinks it’s okay to continue:

“Yeah, well, after everything that’s happened, I just don’t see the appeal of getting drunk.”

Tension ratchets up so quickly that it sends goosebumps rippling through Castiel’s skin. He looks at Dean, the stiffness in his shoulders and the straight lines of his arms, the tight grip on the steering wheel. For a moment, Castiel worries that Dean is angry - this is the thing they never speak of, after all.

But Dean’s eyes, even when focused elsewhere, reveal so much. He doesn’t have to say a word for Castiel to realize that Dean is replaying that summer two years ago, and beating himself up inside over everything he did to his family, to Lisa, to Castiel.

Castiel takes a breath, frantically searching his mind for something to say, something that might comfort Dean, and all he can come up with is, “I might change my mind when school starts, though. That’s what college is about, right? Experimentation, discovering yourself...”

The air changes, though it’s still heavy and thick. Dean turns to look at Castiel, but quickly returns his gaze back to the road. “What, um…” He clears his throat and shifts his grip on the steering wheel. “What school are you going to?”

Castiel leans back in his seat and stares at his lap. “Northwestern.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Where’s that?”

A beat of silence. Then: “Chicago.”

“Oh.”

The car purrs happily as they arrive back in Sileas, but the silence stretches between them, taut and tense. Dean has his chin angled downwards, obviously deep in thought, but Castiel can’t figure out if he’s angry or disappointed. This is half of what Castiel was afraid of in the first place. He had applied and been accepted to Oregon State, but his mother had convinced him to go to Northwestern because it was her alma mater, though she had promised that he could get his graduate degree wherever he wanted. Sure, that’s four years from now, but if he and Dean do decide to pursue this relationship, at least Castiel can give Dean something concrete to look forward to.

Four years is still a long time. Potentially, it could be less, if Castiel really put his nose to the grindstone, but then when would he have the time to get away and actually see Dean?

Castiel’s fidgets with the sleeves of his shirt, half-hoping Dean will reach over and take his hand again, but also hoping he won’t, if only because this thing, these feelings they’re playing with, well, the longer they drag things out, the more they will hurt when it eventually ends. And Castiel going away to school might be an ending.

The car stops. Castiel looks up when Dean cuts the engine, and is taken aback by the sight before him: they’re up on a hill, with a clear view of the town, white lights like stars coming through the little windows. The ocean spreads out beyond, waves cresting so far out that the only way to tell where the water ends and the sky begins is by the stars, real stars, glittering overhead.

For a moment, Castiel just takes in the view, and when he turns away, Dean is smiling fondly at him, relaxed back against the leather seat.

“I knew you’d like this place,” Dean says, his voice a rumble in the darkness. Castiel smiles briefly, attempting to ignore the way his weak, traitor heart is fluttering.

“Did you take me to Lover’s Leap?”

“What? No! Wait.” Dean sits up, brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you mean Lover’s Lane?” Castiel snorts softly, ducking his head to hide his smile, but he still manages to catch the way Dean rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t be a very good Leap spot anyway,” Dean mutters. “Everybody’d just roll down the hill.”

“Like in the Princess Bride,” Castiel offers, taking the view in one more time.

“As you wish, Cas,” Dean says, amused.

They share a look, then, and it’s so full of varied emotions that Castiel can’t begin to sort through - affection, flirtation, humor, apprehension, and longing, for a start - that neither could tell you who moved first. The next thing Castiel remembers, Dean’s lips are pressed against his, hands cupped around his jaw, and the kiss is passionate but hesitant, like Dean is afraid of trying for more but still wants to take what he can while he can.

And Castiel knows why Dean’s afraid. There are a hundred reasons to be absolutely terrified of this, all of which Castiel promptly forgets when Dean’s thumbs caress his cheekbones, and he can only hum, parting his lips in the hopes that Dean will take the hint and deepen the kiss. Luckily, Dean proves himself reliable in this, his fingertips digging into the back of Castiel’s neck and the space behind his ear as their tongues slide together.

At school, Castiel had been known as stoic and focused. His sense of humor is dry, and sometimes it felt like Meg, Balthazar, and Uriel were the only people in New York who understood when he was trying to be funny. When Dean said Castiel was cold as ice, well, he doesn’t know the half of it. Balthazar is constantly teasing Castiel for his disinterest in dating. He’s been doing it for _years_. Even when Castiel was dating Meg, Balthazar would tease him about how strange and distant their relationship was. And when the jokes picked up in full force after Balthazar found out about the break-up, Meg was completely unhelpful, at best only smirking along, and at worst joining in to taunt Castiel, even though she knew better than anyone why Castiel was so frigid.

Because he’s not like that with Dean. He never really has been. They have always touched and kissed, and honestly, Castiel made Meg wait, but all Dean had to do was show him that specific, selfless form of kindness that is _just so Dean_ , and Castiel was ready to let him do anything he wanted.

Pathetic, really.

Dean’s hands drag down Castiel’s sides, his lips moving to Castiel’s neck, and suddenly Castiel doesn’t really care how pathetic he is. He doesn’t care how dangerous this is, that Dean might hurt him again. He clutches the back of Dean’s shirt and tilts his head to give Dean better access, whimpering softly when Dean’s teeth tease at the skin under his ear. Dean laughs and bites again, just hard enough to make Castiel jump. He follows it up with a nuzzle, a few playful kisses, then pulls back to study Castiel’s face.

“What are we doing?” asks Dean.

“I don’t know, you started it,” Castiel accuses. He shifts slightly, rolling his shoulders, and Dean smiles.

“We could get in the backseat and see where things go.”

At first, Castiel wants to make a joke. ‘I’m not that kind of girl,’ or something equally cliche and teasing. But before he can even open his mouth, Dean is leaning over and whispering into his ear:

“I really want to suck you off.”

Oh.

Castiel blanks out for a moment. He’s not sure exactly how long, but when he comes back, Dean is kissing his neck again. Longer, more indulgent kisses now, and Castiel’s eyelids flutter as he imagines that mouth on other parts of his body.

“We don’t have to,” Dean is mumbling, one hand pressed warm and steady against Castiel’s waist. “It’s okay, if you don’t-”

“I want to,” Castiel whispers back, because how the hell could Dean possibly think that anyone could say no to a request like that?

It’s not as if Meg hadn’t offered, once or twice. She is much more experienced than Cas in that area, probably even more than Dean, but Castiel had never been interested. It wasn’t panic or fear or nervousness, like when he was younger, when Bela and Pam liked to tease him. There was just a complete lack of physical response. He liked kissing Meg. He enjoyed making out with her and touching her and cuddling with her, but only ever in private, and it never went beyond that. Ever.

She would probably be really pissed if she ever found out just how easy Dean has it.

Dean’s fingers are already fumbling with the buttons on Castiel’s shirt, but Castiel pushes him away, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. Dean has a small pout on his face when Castiel slides into the back seat, but it quickly gives way to understanding, and he scrambles to catch up.

Castiel doesn’t give himself time to panic. As soon as Dean has closed the door, Castiel pulls him in close, kissing him fiercely. Dean is on-board immediately, his hands returning to Castiel’s dress shirt, opening it deftly and dragging his undershirt up, palm firmly pressed to Castiel’s skin. When his fingers brush against a nipple, Castiel hisses, jerking out of the kiss, and Dean’s pupils dilate as he watches.

“We’re coming back to that,” Dean says, licking his lips before pressing them to Castiel’s chest. “No time tonight, but one day I’m gonna find all the places on your body that make you do that.”

He sounds so sincere that Castiel has to wonder why the hell they can’t _make_ time to do that _right now_ , but Dean is distracting, breathing warm puffs of air against Castiel’s skin, which feels like it’s burning up from the inside. Dean leaves a kiss just above Castiel’s navel, deftly unbuttoning his trousers as Castiel leans his head back against the door and tries to catch his breath. Dean is so infuriatingly _calm_ about this, while Castiel can’t even watch as Dean tugs at his trousers, pulls them just off his hips.

Maybe it’s because Dean has had sex before. Even if it wasn’t a guy, naked bodies are naked bodies, and maybe Dean is just used to this. And it’s not like they’ve never seen each other’s dicks before. They dove right into that pool, after all.

Castiel is about to ask what’s going through Dean’s head, but as soon as he tilts his own down, it’s to see Dean grinning at him just before he swallows Castiel’s dick. The _whole thing_. And Castiel’s not exactly huge, but he’s not exactly small either, and he’s left gawping like a fish at the sight of Dean’s lips stretched around the base of his cock.

“How did you-” Castiel gasps, but he quickly decides he doesn’t care when Dean’s hand fumbles across his stomach and hip, until it finally finds its home in between Castiel’s fingers, squeezing gently. When Castiel squeezes back, Dean backs off, just long enough to give Castiel a wobbly grin, before bracing Castiel’s hips with his free hand and placing an almost reverent kiss to the very tip of Castiel’s cock, laughing when it jumps.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” Dean murmurs, and Castiel whimpers pathetically at this pretty lie, at Dean’s lips dragging up the length of his cock. “Wish we had more time, but…” He raises his eyebrows, holding eye contact as he suckles at the head, humming as he laps at the slit.

How Dean does this, Castiel may never know, but it’s really only a few minutes of slurping and whining and Castiel’s fingernails digging into the leather seats and the back of Dean’s hand before he’s coming, a choked noise of surprise bursting from his throat as Dean pulls back with a grunt. He’s quick to replace his mouth with his hand, though, working Castiel through it, pulling every last shiver of orgasm from him until Castiel is little more than a puddle, staring open-mouthed at the roof of the car and making helpless little noises as Dean cleans him up.

“You’re more sensitive than I thought,” Dean comments, pulling Castiel’s slacks back into place, zipping him up. He follows this up with a small huff of laughter, draping himself over Castiel’s body and pressing his nose into Castiel’s neck. “Must’ve been a long school year for you.”

“Ha ha ha, let’s laugh at Castiel’s blue balls” Castiel drawls, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders, his lips in Dean’s hair. This is much more intimate than a first date has any right to be, but since when have he and Dean ever been uncomfortable touching one another?

It’s nice, like this. Dean is smiling against Castiel’s skin, and his hair is soft between Castiel’s fingers. Their chests rise and fall in tandem as they breathe in humid air and just enjoy each other’s proximity. Being together again is just… nice. Like the pieces have fallen back into place. Like something has settled in Castiel’s chest. He doesn’t want to start thinking of Sileas as home, even though that thought has been trying to break into his head for years now. He just can’t afford to think that way, not with school waiting on the other side of the season.

Still. He drags his hand through Dean’s hair once more before whispering, “Do you need me to…?”

Dean chuckles, burying his head deeper into Castiel’s neck. “Don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Who said I didn’t want to?”

Dean tilts his head up until he can meet Castiel’s gaze, and they smirk at one another, almost a challenge, as Dean pulls away and sits up, trying to work his pants open. Castiel has a flashback to the end of last summer, Dean writhing in his lap, watching their cocks slide together in Dean’s fist, and Castiel’s spent cock takes a renewed interest in trying that again. But why do the same thing all the time? He wants to taste Dean too, or maybe get really crazy and try-

“Open up, Winchester!”

They both jump at the knock on the window, and Dean pouts dramatically as he zips himself back up before reaching to roll the window down. “Sheriff Mills!” he says with a charming grin. “How are you on this fine evening?”

“Save it,” Jody says, leaning in through the window. She glances at Castiel before sighing and rolling her eyes. “What did I tell you last time, Dean?”

Last time?

Dean laughs awkwardly, but doesn’t look away from Jody. “Well…”

“I told you it’s public indecency and I’d have to ticket you next time.” She pauses, raising both eyebrows. “It’s next time, Dean.”

“In my defense, Cas is never decent in public,” Dean offers, but Jody just frowns and Castiel is only more confused by this statement, so Dean sighs. “Sorry, bad joke. Jody, you can’t do this to me.”

“I’ve already warned you-!”

But Dean is off, pleading with her, talking about the bills he has to pay and how he can’t afford to go back to court or to lose his car, while Jody counters that he should’ve thought of all that before bringing Castiel up here like the whole damn town can’t hear this monster of a car wherever it goes.

Castiel is still stuck on ‘last time.’ Dean’s brought someone up here before. He’s done ‘indecent’ things with them before. And, from the way Jody’s talking, her tone full of exasperation and annoyance, it wasn’t all that long ago.

Last summer, Dean had gently taken Castiel’s hand and clumsily, endearingly, confessed to having feelings for his friend. Fresh out of a very confusing relationship, Castiel’s heart had still soared and overpowered his disbelief and uncertainty. Honestly, how realistic is it that one boy could develop a crush on another, struggle to accept that those emotions may never be reciprocated, only to eventually find out that his crush had fallen for him as well? It’s like something out of a queer romance novel. It’s fantasy. Nothing more.

Maybe Castiel should’ve kept that in mind, instead of letting his daydreams get away from him. Instead of letting Dean run the show and lead him down a path where he can’t see any potential ending, good or bad, Castiel should’ve been stronger. He should be stronger from now on.

Castiel glances up. Dean is smiling at Jody as she throws her hands in the air and swears she’ll tell Dean’s mother the next time she catches him up here. Clearly, Dean doesn’t believe her, since he’s waving cheerfully and thanking her as she walks back to her car.

At least Castiel knows he’s not the only one who can’t resist Dean’s charms.

“We should go,” Dean suggests when he notices Jody’s car still idling nearby. “She won’t leave until we do.”

“That’s smart,” Castiel comments casually, and he doesn’t look at Dean as he climbs out of the backseat and stretches in the cool night air. He waits until he hears Dean slide into the driver’s seat before he gets back in on the passenger side, and stares out the window at Jody’s car as Dean pulls back onto the road.

This is why Castiel had asked to wait last summer. This is why he was so nervous about the idea of dating Dean, and why he should have shut those intentions down before this ever got started. Apparently, Dean couldn’t just wait for Castiel to be ready, and that means _Dean_ isn’t ready. And maybe he never will be.

Silence sits heavy in the car as they drive back to the resort. Dean keeps glancing at Castiel, but Castiel won’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. Plus, he knows that it’ll just give Dean an opening to ask him what’s wrong, and if anybody is going to start this conversation, it’ll be Castiel. It’ll be on his terms.

Dean pulls into a parking spot at the resort, but leaves the car idling. He fidgets in his seat, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, and Castiel continues to sit still and stare out the window. Let him be anxious.

“‘Last time?’” Castiel says, still refusing to look at Dean.

“Um.”

“How many times has Jody caught you up there?”

The car hums around them, and now it’s Dean who can’t look at Castiel. “I guess…” He sits there, fidgeting with his fingers, then sighs and falls back in his seat. “Look, you said you wanted us to be ready, and sometimes I’d panic and y’know, that was how I got myself to calm down.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Taking somebody else up to make-out point?”

Dean closes his eyes.

“And being ‘publicly indecent’ with them?”

Dean gives him a pained look. “Cas, c’mon.”

“Don’t tell me to ‘come on’-!”

“You said yourself you didn’t want to be with me until we were ready! This is-”

“And how do you think that makes _me_ feel, hm?” For some reason, this is actually easier now that they’re looking at each other. Now that Dean can see Castiel’s face, and from his reactions, he can see how upset Castiel is about this discovery. “You tell me you have feelings for me, and I come back here to find out you spent months being with other people-”

“Cas, it’s not like that!” Dean reaches over and grabs Castiel’s hand, and his own is warm and strong and Castiel is _weak_ and lets him hold it, lets him stroke his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles, lets Dean attempt to soothe him. “I never… it’s _you_ , it’s always been _you_ , and whoever I was with were just stepping stones to _you_.”

Wrapped up in those words is a confession of guilt, that Dean _did_ go around with other people, and Castiel grabs onto that, holds on for dear life, before Dean can sweep him off his feet again. “You said you had feelings for me,” Castiel says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I don’t-... how can you have feelings for me, and still go have sex with other people? It’s basically cheating!”

“It is _not_ cheating,” Dean snaps, though his grip on Castiel’s hand tightens. “You said yourself that we weren’t together. _You_ wanted us to be ready first. Well, I’m ready now. And,” he swallows, averting his gaze for a moment before turning back to Castiel, his eyes searching. “And if you’re not, that’s okay. I can wait a little longer.”

Castiel blinks at him. Dean stares back, then continues, “I’m sorry if… if sleeping around upset you. I didn’t know it would, but I’m still sorry. I stopped all that shit a couple months ago anyway, because I was so excited to see you and be with you, and I didn’t want to give anybody the wrong idea about prom either, so y’know, I guess I mean that I won’t be sleeping with anybody else while I wait. If that’s what you want.”

Castiel realizes then that his lips are parted, his jaw having dropped in surprise, and he pulls his hand away from Dean’s to run it through his hair. “God _damn_ it, Dean,” he groans, because this is what got him into trouble last year. This, right here. It’s what made everything so bad back in 2006, and it’s why he fell so hard when they first met.

Dean is a _good_ person. He makes mistakes sometimes, but even those mistakes are usually made with good intentions. And Castiel loves that about him. He loves that Dean may be imperfect, but that doesn’t mean he’s not _good_. It’s why Castiel is weak, why he can always forgive so easily, and it’s why Dean is so dangerous, because sometimes? Sometimes those imperfections hurt. Sometimes they cut too deep.

And Castiel is afraid of getting cut again.

So when Dean reaches for him, Castiel recoils. He fumbles with the door handle before it suddenly swings open, almost dropping him to the ground. That shakes Castiel up enough that he can look at Dean, who looks back with a wounded and confused expression, almost like a dog that’s just been told it was bad. And Castiel almost laughs at that, because there couldn’t be a more perfect comparison to Dean if he tried. Dean is the bad dog who just wants to love him so much that he forgot he’s not allowed on the furniture.

“I have to go,” Castiel says, before that endearing train of thought keeps going and he loses his control again. “Um, thanks for everything?”

Dean just looks even more confused as Castiel gets out of the car. “You’re welcome?”

“I’ll, um,” Castiel swallows. “I’ll see you around.”

Dean makes a face that might be a smile if it wasn’t so clear that Castiel’s actions have hurt him, and really, Castiel needs to leave right now, or he’ll end up with a faceful of Dean’s lap in an attempt to just make that expression go away and stay away. “You promise? Don’t be a stranger this year, Cas.”

“Um,” Castiel says smartly. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay-” is all Dean gets out before Castiel is slamming the car door and turning around, his stride quick and deliberate as he heads back towards the elevator. He only allows himself to breathe once he knows he’s out of Dean’s sight, and he groans again, running both hands over his face.

What a disaster.

And to make things worse, as soon as he walks in the door, Anna turns around from her space on the couch and narrows her eyes at him, taking in his rumpled dress clothes and tired, guilty expression.

“You slut,” she accuses, though she smiles as soon as the words have left her mouth. She’s teasing him, and from the way she shifts to make room, she clearly wants to hear all about his date. But the words strike a chord in Castiel’s chest, and he waves her away, swiftly walking past her into the private bedroom, closing the door before she can say anything else.

And, because Castiel is weak, he pulls out his phone and sends out a text message.

 **To: Dean**   
**From: Castiel**   
**10:15pm**

**Anna called me a slut**

**To: Dean**   
**From: Castiel**   
**10:15pm**

**Am I a slut after what I let you do?**

The response takes a while, long enough for Castiel to change out of his rumpled dress clothes and into sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Long enough for him to realize that it’s not Anna’s choice of slur that stings, but the seed it planted in his head: that he could be just another notch in Dean’s bedpost.

 

 **From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**10:27pm**

**dude. no. if anything i’m the slut.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**10:28pm**

**do u regret it? i’m sorry i shoulda told u b4**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**10:28pm**

**it’s ok if u do i understand**

 

Castiel stares at the series of messages, then shakes his head, pressing his phone to his lips. If it were literally anyone else, Castiel’s wouldn’t accept this apology. If it were anyone else, Castiel wouldn’t be able to trust the sincerity behind it. But the reality is, he knows Dean well enough to know that he probably is genuinely beating himself up over his choices.

None of this makes Castiel any more sure of their potential future together. But it does make him realize that it’s ridiculous to think that Dean looks at anyone as simply a ‘notch in a bedpost.’ What that means for his other partners, Castiel doesn’t know, but at least he knows that he’s not unimportant.

He hesitates, staring at the tiny screen. He wants to tell Dean how hopeless this is, that the two of them together are a bad idea, that Castiel isn’t strong enough to risk his heart, but he’s not strong enough to turn away from Dean either.

 

 **From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**10:30pm**

**i don’t regret it. it’s ok.**

 

And then, before he can convince himself not to:

 

 **From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**10:30pm**

**don’t give up on me**

After a moment, Dean texts back a series of question marks, but Castiel doesn’t want to ease his confusion. It’s hard enough parsing through his own.

 

**June 1st, 2008**

Castiel wakes up the next morning when Anna bounces on his bed and starts shaking his shoulder with one hand. Her other hand is busy holding her phone away from her ear, and though Castiel can’t quite make out what’s being said, he recognizes Jo’s volume and tone immediately.

“I’m still sleeping,” Castiel whines, burying his head back in the pillow, but Anna keeps on shaking him.

“Jo’s pissed we didn’t call her last night, and when I told her why, she just said she was gonna kill Dean for being a selfish prick.”

Castiel lifts his head and stares at his sister. “You told her about the date?”

“Just that there was one.” Jo’s tinny voice is still going, breaking the quiet as Castiel tries to silently convey his horror. Anna rolls her eyes. “Please, like she doesn’t already know you and Dean have the hots for each other, don’t be like that.” She tilts her head, lips forming an overdramatic frown as she teases, “You don’t want Jo to _kill_ Dean do you?”

Castiel sighs and snatches the phone out of Anna’s hand, ignoring her smug grin. “Jo? Jo!” he has to yell before she stops talking and realizes which Milton she’s speaking to.

“Cas! Cas, you can’t let Dean keep you away from the rest of us, okay? I know he’s got, like, a million grand romantic gestures planned, but you gotta make a little time for your friends in between all the gross sex.” Castiel tightens his jaw and reminds himself that she’s probably just making assumptions, and fighting those assumptions won’t do anything to help his case. “Me and Charlie are gonna go to the park this afternoon, and Sam said he might come with, and both you and Anna are required to be there.”

“Required?” Castiel repeats drily.

“Required.” He can practically hear her smirk. “Meet us there at two. And before you ask, no, Dean won’t be there because he has to work.”

“Whatever,” Castiel says, with as much exhaustion as he can muster. “We’ll see you there.”

Jo hangs up without another word, and Castiel tosses the phone to the bed, glaring at Anna. She’s already showered and dressed for the day, and sits on the edge of the bed, smirking at him.

“So,” she says brightly, “what caused your snit fit last night?”

If looks could kill, Castiel is pretty sure his sister wouldn’t be breathing anymore. At any rate, she ignores him and shoves his shoulder again, asking all-too-innocently, “If you and Dean don’t work out, can I have him?”

Castiel grabs his pillow and shoves it in her face, finally smiling when she yells about him ruining her eyeliner.

 

\-----

 

They arrive at the park right on time, but Jo and Charlie are already sitting underneath a tree with a pile of comic books between them. Sam is out on the field, a soccer ball under his arm, though he seems far more interested in talking to the tow-headed girl in front of him. Still, Sam is the one who notices them first, waving cheerfully and handing his soccer ball to his friend before running over to grab Castiel in a hug.

He’s bigger than Castiel expected. For some reason, Castiel keeps thinking of that kind but energetic little child that tripped over him three years ago, but that’s not what Sam is anymore. Sam is tall and gangly and stronger than he knows, pulling Castiel in too tight, and when he goes to do the same to Anna, he’s more than a head taller than her.

“You’ve grown,” Castiel says as a way of greeting, but Sam just laughs, apparently unaware of the way Anna is staring at him with new interest.

“So have you,” Sam offers. “I like the long hair.”

Castiel grins, self-consciously running a hand through said hair, pulling it out to its full length. “I like yours,” he offers, gesturing to Sam’s own tousled mop, which isn’t too much longer than Castiel’s. Behind them, somebody snorts, and Castiel turns to see Jo shaking her head at him, with Charlie grinning next to her.

“You both need to meet a nice pair of scissors,” Jo says, but she holds her arms out and squeezes Castiel tight when he accepts her hug, chastising him: “Don’t you ever let Dean pull you away from a welcome party again.”

“Of course not.”

Jo nods and turns her attention to Anna, while Castiel greets Charlie far more warmly, petting her head as she tucks her face into his neck.

“I was sorry to hear about you and Gilda,” he whispers. Charlie shrugs against his chest and pulls back. The expression on her face is far too casual to be genuine.

“I’m going to Gonzaga and she’s headed all the way to London. We’re both young and there’s lots of opportunities at college, so we figured, why limit ourselves?”

Don’t think Castiel doesn’t notice the way Anna’s eyes are darting between Charlie and Castiel, or the perturbed little face Jo makes. Distance is something Castiel is concerned about in his own relationship, but their youth and their potential for finding other people hadn’t crossed his mind before.

Well, except for Dean. Dean clearly has no trouble finding other people to entertain himself with.

But Castiel won’t think about that now. He’ll set it aside and squeeze Charlie’s shoulder, and when Anna decides to join Sam and his new friend on the field, Castiel follows the girls over to the swings. They both fit perfectly, their toes scraping the sand when they sit, but Castiel just feels awkward with his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“I wish you’d stop talking about Gonzaga,” Jo complains. “Ash is going to Boston, Pam’s going to New York, Garth is going to San Francisco, and I’m gonna be stuck here in high school for two more years.” She sticks out her lower lip in a well-practiced pout. “All by my lonesome. It’s not fair.”

“Dean is staying here,” Charlie points out, her tone indicating that this is a well-worn conversation. Castiel lifts his head, squinting at them.

“Yeah, but Dean graduated already,” Jo continues, as if Castiel isn’t even there.

“Sam starts high school this year.”

“But he’s all obsessed with _Jessica_ now.” Jo waves over at the field, where Anna is an obvious third wheel as Sam shows off a few tricks for the blonde girl, who must be Jessica. “I’m all alone for junior year, woe is me.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and ignores Jo’s pity party to finally ask Castiel, “Where are you going to school?”

“Northwestern,” rolls off his tongue, but it sounds strange, like he’s still getting used to saying it. “Near Chicago.”

“Really?” asks Charlie, at the same time Jo chimes in, “I thought for sure you’d be a Duck or a Beaver.”

Castiel blushes, pushing himself back and forth in the swing. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of _Dean_ , obviously.” Jo frowns hard, her eyes narrowing. “You and Dean having gross, goopy feelings for each other is still a thing, right?”

Castiel scowls at her and scuffs his heels in the dirt. “My life doesn’t revolve around Dean,” he says snippily. “And I mean, it’s not like he couldn’t find an art school to go to in Chicago. I shouldn’t have to make all the sacrifices-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Charlie whistles, reaching out to gently grip Castiel’s elbow. Jo is still glaring at him, though the look has softened slightly. “Nobody’s asking you to sacrifice anything. We just thought that being near Dean might have been part of your decision. It’s okay if that’s not true!” she adds quickly, misinterpreting the guilty look on Castiel’s face - he _had_ considered Dean, he _had_ wanted to go to OSU, but he let his mother talk him out of it.

He _let_ her.

Or maybe he was just too afraid to do anything else.

“And it’s not like Dean would go to school anyway,”  Charlie continues with a roll of her eyes. “Especially not as far away as Chicago.”

“Why the hell not?”

Jo scoffs. “You know Dean. Who else is going to bear the weight of the world on their shoulders if Dean Winchester dares to take a little time for himself?”

Castiel laughs softly, even though it’s not that funny when you put a little thought towards it. It’s pure Dean, actually. Willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that everyone around him is happy, even if its at his own expense. What sacrifices has Castiel made lately? How dare he talk about making sacrifices when that’s all Dean ever does?

“He’d do well at an art school,” Castiel mumbles. “He has to know that.”

“Oh jeez, have you met Sonny?” Charlie laughs. “If Sonny could figure out a way to pay for Dean to go to art school without Dean knowing, he would.” She kicks at Jo’s shin. “You know that Life Drawing class Dean took? The ‘free’ one? It wasn’t free. Sonny paid the fee in advance and told Dean it was free.”

Jo’s mouth forms an ‘O’ of delighted surprise, and she leans back in the swing, cackling. “Oh, he’d have  a cow if he knew.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell him,” Charlie says smartly.  “And you better not either. Both of you.” She turns an accusatory glare to Castiel, who quickly shakes his head.

“But there has to be a school he can go to,” Castiel says. “Portland is a bit of a drive, but he could still live at home and study there-”

“Dean doesn’t think about it that way.” Charlie rolls her eyes, kicking her legs back and forth. “Come on. Like Jo said, God forbid someone try to help Superman Dean carry the world around. He’ll take care of whatever he has to take care of as long as his mom doesn’t have to worry about money, and Sam doesn’t have to worry about anything.”

She sighs, and for a moment, all three of them pause to watch Sam on the field. He’s teaching the girls the proper technique to kick the ball across the grass, something Jessica is having a much easier time with than Anna. Now Sam is being kind enough to direct attention to both girls, but he’s still more physical with Jessica, and his smiles towards her have a special sort of glow.

“If Sam starts dating that girl,” Castiel comments suddenly, “Dean would give him money to treat her with.”

“Yup.” Jo snickers. “Looks like you picked the wrong Winchester.”

Castiel huffs. “Like I couldn’t pay for everything myself.”

“Like he’d let you.”

Castiel turns to glare at both girls, who just giggle under his gaze. “It doesn’t matter anyway, since we’re not… whatever.”

Charlie cocks a disbelieving eyebrow while Jo laughs outright. “Please tell me I don’t have to live through yet another summer full of sad little Bambi eyes and ‘ _Cas is ignoring me, what do I do_?’” She drags the words out like a sob, overdramatically wiping at her eyes while Charlie laughs at her mockery. Castiel just squints.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play that game,” Jo snaps, perhaps a little harsher than necessary. “You guys are worse than Ross and Rachel.”

“Holy shit, they’re _totally_ Ross and Rachel,” Charlie agrees, quickly turning back to frown at Castiel. “Don’t be Ross and Rachel.”

“I don’t even know who Ross and Rachel _are_!” Castiel says with an exasperated groan. “What are you talking about?”

Both girls gape at him with round eyes, but he refuses to shrink under their judgmental horror. So he’s not as pop culture savvy as his public school friends, so what? They know this by now, it shouldn’t be such a shock. So he stares back at them, waiting, until Charlie finally tightens her jaw and nods.

“We’ll get you to watch _Friends_ some time this summer, okay? Either way, what we’re getting at is that if you and Dean have feelings for each other, then you should be together. For the good of _everyone_ , not just you guys.”

The way she stresses that, and the way Jo is nodding enthusiastically behind her, clues Castiel in to the fact that his drama with Dean has never really been just between the two of them. Whatever fight they were having, whatever feelings were being dealt with, Jo and Charlie were on the front lines as witnesses. And, all things considered, Castiel can’t really blame them for being tired of it.

But at the same time.

“If Dean has feelings for me, why was he sleeping with other people?”

Charlie cringes. Jo clears her throat and looks away.

Ah. So they knew.

When Castiel frowns, Jo immediately excuses herself and runs off to join the other kids, leaving Charlie to glare at her retreating form.

“I told Dean it was a bad idea,” Charlie says quietly, still glaring at Jo as an excuse not to meet Castiel’s eyes. “That if he really loved you, he should wait. But.” She shrugs and sighs, gently swaying back and forth in the swing. “He decided he didn’t want to taint your relationship with his own insecurities, so he’d get over them with someone else.” Rolling her eyes, she tilts her head to look at Castiel. “So technically, he did it all for you. And, also technically, you weren’t actually together. So. Don’t be Rachel.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” Castiel mutters, which gets Charlie to laugh. “I just don’t want to go all in if he won’t do the same.”

Charlie scoffs. “Jeez, if this is the kind of miscommunication that happens in long distance relationships, I’m almost glad me and Gilda broke up.” She pauses for a tense second, then drops her shoulders with a sigh. “I’m not gonna sell you on Dean. I’m not going to defend his choices, and I don’t really want _our_ friendship to revolve around _your_ relationship.” The corner of her lip twitches when she catches Castiel’s wince, and it stretches into a smile when he blushes. “All that said, though, Dean’s in love with you. And that’s all that should really matter.”

It’s so easy to say that. Just like in books and movies and TV programs, where all that matters in that two people are so passionately in love with each other that the universe realigns itself just for them and their needs. Strict parents step back and other relationships can be broken and the two lovers are so all-consuming in their love that no one even cares, as long as they’re together.

But that’s not real life. Yes, Castiel is nervous about committing to Dean, but that’s not the only thing that’s hanging over his head.

“It’s not that simple,” Castiel mumbles, so low that Charlie has to lean in to hear him. “My uncle is a famous televangelist, there’s no room for me to be in a relationship with another man. Do you know what a scandal that would be? And my mother doesn’t like Dean and my brothers don’t trust him and I don’t know what they’d do if I said I was in love with him, I don’t know-”

Charlie places a hand over Castiel’s, where it’s tightly gripping the chain. She rests it there, warm and gentle, until eventually he relaxes, takes a deep breath, and turns to look her in the eye.

“I can’t do it. How I feel about him doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t be a chicken,” she says, smiling when he blinks in surprise. “I can’t tell you what to do about your family, ‘cause I had an easy time with mine. But Dean adores you, and he’s ready. Whatever happened over the school year, he wants to be with you now.” She squeezes his hand. “So don’t be afraid.”

Castiel doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking, he doesn’t want to be that cruel. But at the same time, he has to know. He presses his other hand on top of Charlie’s, holding her in place as he whispers, “What if we just end up like you and Gilda?”

Pain flickers across Charlie’s face, but her smile returns quickly enough. She leans in closer, using her free hand to gently grip Castiel’s wrist.

“I keep telling myself we’ll find each other again, if it’s meant to be,” she says. “And if it’s not, then there’s something even better waiting for me. So, it’ll all work out in the end.”

Castiel searches her face for a moment, then draws back with a sigh, releasing her hands as she releases his. “Of course,” he says, offering a smile. Her own grows in response as she reaches over to tousle his hair, then grabs his hand again to pull him up, drag him out to the field where the rest of their friends are organizing a game of HORSE.

But Castiel’s mind is still bubbling with fear. Charlie’s mantra may work for her, but Castiel can’t really imagine anyone better for him than Dean. Maybe that’s youthful blindness, but it’s true.

So why can’t he get over this fear and just take what he wants?

 

**June 4th, 2008**

The weather in Oregon isn’t exactly unpredictable, so you’d think that, at some point, Castiel would learn to keep an umbrella on him when he runs. Everyone knows the Pacific Northwest sees frequent, heavy rains, and just because Castiel can look out at the horizon and see stormclouds far off in the distance, that doesn’t mean he can go on a five mile run and be back before they hit.

Castiel huffs, and makes a swipe at his brow with the back of his hand. The rain keeps pouring down and his entire body is soaked, so he doesn’t know why he bothered to do so. This is what old people mean when they talk about the arrogance of youth, he’s pretty sure. Just because he’s a first place finisher, that doesn’t mean he can beat Mother Nature.

There’s a few restaurants on the edge of town, and one of them, if Castiel remembers correctly, is the pizza place that Mary Winchester works at. He’s hesitant to see her, considering he has no idea what she knows about his relationship with Dean and he’s not sure he could answer her questions even if she does… but he does know that she’ll let him dry off for a minute, and give him a chance to either wait for the storm to pass or figure out who to call to pick him up.

So he pushes himself a little harder, trying to fight the wind threatening to push him off the sidewalk. There’s a golden light and a gravel parking lot just ahead, and he’s pretty sure that’s where the pizza place is.

A car turns into the lot just as Castiel is finally approaching, and in the darkness it takes a moment for Castiel to recognize the behemoth as Dean’s car. Panic shoots through him at the realization, so strong that he actually considers continuing his run until he gets back to the resort, no matter how sick he gets because of it.

But that’s stupid. Isn’t it? He hasn’t spoken to Dean since their date, though Dean has certainly tried his best to get a hold of him. Castiel just can’t work up the courage to answer the phone, or even read Dean’s texts. He knows that Jo and Charlie had a point, that he should just put the past in the past and go for what he wants, but he just can’t get over his fear. That Dean could change his mind or find someone else. That Castiel’s family could separate them for good, somehow. That someday, they could hurt one another, and however much Dean hurt Castiel, Castiel isn’t sure he could live with himself if he hurt Dean.

“Cas?”

While Castiel was busy panicking, all four doors of the car have sprung open. Dean, Sam, Charlie, Jo, and another boy that Castiel doesn’t recognize are all staring at him, and Castiel blushes, trying to get his wet hair out of his face. Maybe it _is_ time for a haircut.

“Hello,” he says with a sheepish smile.

“So you _did_ get my text?” Dean asks, stepping closer, and the hope threatening to crest in his voice is too much for Castiel to resist.

“No,” he says, but before Dean’s face can fall he adds, “I guess this is just serendipity.”

Dean blinks before a slow smile spreads across his face. Castiel can’t help returning it.

“C’mon, man!” comes from near the car, breaking the spell. Dean rolls his eyes while Castiel glances to where the rest of Dean’s friends have escaped to wait under the awning. Charlie is smiling at them, but Jo, Sam, and the new guy all look unimpressed, and it’s the new boy who yells, “We gonna eat or what?”

“Shut up, Benny,” Dean snaps back. “This is on my bucket list!”

And before Castiel can figure out what that means, Dean has grabbed the collar of his soaked t-shirt and dragged him in for a kiss. There’s a faint groan of exasperation behind them, but Castiel ignores that because Dean’s kiss is gentle and sweet, perfectly chaste. Castiel brings his own hands up to cup Dean’s face, and can feel the resulting hum vibrating through Dean’s throat, against his lips, but Dean doesn’t make any moves to change the nature of this. Which Castiel appreciates. And at the same time, it makes Castiel want more.

They pull apart only when Jo throws a rock that hits Dean’s shoulder, and when he glares at her she yells, “Stop being Ross and Rachel, the rest of us are fucking _hungry_!”

“We’re not Ross and Rachel, goddammit,” Dean mutters, but he steps back and releases Castiel’s shirt, just to take his hand and lead him towards the door. The easy, affectionate touch makes Castiel’s heart flutter, and he wonders if maybe it is just this easy after all.

“We’re Monica and Chandler and you know it,” Dean continues as the group steps inside. Charlie and Jo gasp dramatically in unison, which makes Sam roll his eyes.

“How dare you!” Jo exclaims.

“Nuh-uh,” Charlie argues. “You’re Ross and Cas is Rachel and that’s not changing until you guys get your shit together.”

Dean holds up their entwined hands and makes a triumphant expression that Charlie just waves off. They approach a round table near the middle of the restaurant, and Dean uses his free hand to wave at Mary behind the counter while Charlie pulls out a chair. “You just kissed him in the rain,” she argues as everyone takes a seat. “Classic Ross and Rachel, case closed.”

“They didn’t even kiss in the rain, they kissed in the _cafe_ ,” Dean mutters, but he doesn’t get to continue the argument as Mary approaches. She sighs and runs a hand through Castiel’s hair, shaking the excess water off her fingers as she frowns at him.

“Dean wouldn’t give you a ride?” she asks, turning an accusatory eye on her eldest. Dean opens his mouth to correct her, but Castiel cuts him off.

“I thought I could beat the storm if I ran.” He shrugs. “I was wrong.”

Mary rolls her eyes and puts both hands into Castiel’s soaked mop of hair, playing with it until it’s sticking straight up in several places, which pulls giggles from Charlie and Jo. “I’ll get you a couple towels, dear,” she offers, then turns to the rest of the table. “And no complicated orders this time, please, this job is tough enough without my kids causing trouble.”

Mary smiles easily, and Castiel furrows his brow as Jo orders for the table. When Mary had said ‘my kids,’ she had seemed to direct it at the entire group, rather than just Dean and Sam. A part of Castiel is baffled by this, trying to write it off as a misunderstanding, or even that she misspoke. Another part, however, is warmed by the idea that this woman could so easily embrace her sons’ friends as if they were her own. She had played with Castiel’s hair as if she had the right to, and he hadn’t even thought to stop her.

Naomi is never so affectionate. Castiel’s chest burns with confusing, conflicted emotions as he tries to remember the last time his mother hugged or kissed him, or even just touched him in a way that wasn’t clinical or posed.

He’s dragged from his thoughts when his vision is suddenly obscured, and he shakes his head in surprise only to feel strong hands ruffling his hair.

Oh. It’s a beige towel. So Castiel reaches up and pulls it back until he sees Dean smiling at him, and that burning feeling fades into something far more pleasant.

Still, Castiel takes over drying himself off, allowing Dean to lean back and ignore Jo’s knowing smirk. “Benny, this is-”

“Cas,” interrupts the new boy, who is studying Castiel intently. “I picked up that much from the PDA.”

A hint of pink appears in Dean’s cheeks, and Castiel smiles to himself as he folds up the towel and shifts to slide it under himself, trying to protect the chair’s vinyl covering.

“And here I thought that’s just how Dean greets his friends,” Castiel says drily, resting his chin in his hand. “Sorry if that bursts your bubble.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel notices Dean’s expression fall, but he opts to ignore it in the face of Benny’s skeptical eyebrow raise.

“I’ve seen you around,” Benny says. “You were at the pool with some redheaded girl the other day.”

“That was his _sister_ ,” Dean leaps to defend, his tone exasperated, like they’ve had this discussion several times. Castiel glances at him before turning back to Benny.

“Yes. My sister, Anna,” Castiel confirms, frowning. “How-... Are you staying at the resort too?”

Now Benny grins, and it’s a lazy, sardonic thing, almost like his weird accent. “ _Oui, cher_ ,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “We got in a few weeks ago, the Lafitte family. My father thought this would be a good way to separate me from my girl Andrea, so that I could meet more people of our station.” He rolls his eyes. “Better people, he said.”

This is a familiar story. Castiel huffs out a laugh. “Did you?”

Benny gestures around the table at their friends. “What do you think?”

Castiel’s lips twitch with a barely suppressed smile. “I’m more in line with who your father wants you to know, though.”

“True.” Benny hums. “But I haven’t decided if you’re ‘better people’ yet or not.”

Castiel shrugs, conceding the point, but Dean leaps to his defense again, hissing, “Dude, come on. We’ve talked about this.”

“I guess we have,” Benny agrees, never taking his eyes off Castiel. “So you know how I feel here and how that ain’t gonna change overnight.”

Dean frowns so hard it’s almost a pout, and Castiel wonders exactly what they were talking about that’s left Benny so wary. Usually people can’t stop telling him how much Dean sings his praises - even Lisa had been quick to tell him so. What was said that put Benny on the fence?

He turns to look at Dean, who doesn’t look back. Maybe Benny’s suspicions come from Dean’s somebody else. Whoever those people were that he was taking up the hill in his beautiful car.

Maybe that was Benny.

Jealousy hits Castiel so hard it almost makes him dizzy, and it takes a moment for him to realize that that’s ridiculous. Dean had admitted that whoever he saw, he had ended things months ago, and Benny’s only been in town a few weeks. Not to mention, Benny had said he has a girlfriend.

Not that that stopped Dean, of course.

But he and Dean never did more than kiss while Dean was dating Lisa, and it’s not like Castiel hasn’t made a point of telling everyone that he’s not dating Dean now.

Castiel is just very, very confused.

The summer before college was supposed to be a lot easier than this.

Mary brings out their pizzas just then, giving Castiel a reprieve from his own thoughts. The girls break the tension with a spirited discussion about whether or not the late Heath Ledger will end up earning all the praise he’s gotten for the new Batman movie. Sam thinks it’s inappropriate to criticize the recently deceased, especially when the movie’s not even out yet, and Benny thinks a better topic of conversation is whether or not the world really needed Indiana Jones with aliens.

They eat and they chat and Castiel stays quiet mostly, because his hand is resting on top of the table, and Dean can’t seem to stop playing with his fingers. Dean doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it, he’s so engrossed in this conversation about a movie Castiel hasn’t seen yet. But he’s rubbing his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles, the smooth back of his hand, turning it over to intertwine their fingers, to tap and touch the tips. Castiel is fascinated by this subconscious affection, attentive and grounding, and it warms him from the inside out, enough that he almost forgets he’s still soaked from the rain.

At one point, Dean catches his eye and winks at him, and Castiel has to force himself not to giggle, though he does bow his head in an attempt to hide his blush. When did it become so easy to fluster him? And if this is how it will be, if Castiel says yes and he and Dean label their relationship as something other than friendship, why the hell is Castiel so afraid? This is comfort. Warmth. Safety. Of course these are things Castiel wants, and they’re all wrapped up with Dean.

So what is he waiting for?

Dean takes advantage of Castiel’s distraction to pull him in, press a kiss to his temple, before announcing, “I’m gonna hit the head. Comin’ with?”

“Gross, Dean,” Sam groans. Dean frowns and throws a balled-up napkin at him, which Sam easily bats away. “Mom works here, don’t-”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Sammy,” Dean snaps, but he’s blushing a pretty pink that makes Castiel think he did want privacy for some reason.

“I’m fine,” Castiel says quietly, smiling when Dean turns to look at him. “We don’t need to be attached at the hip, you know.”

“I know.” Dean smiles back as he stands. Benny ends up joining him, which earns a peal of laughter from Charlie, especially when Benny makes a point of sending their table a cheeky thumbs up just before the door closes behind them.

“You’re dating,” Jo says with a know-it-all nod. “I don’t care what you say. You and Dean are boyfriends, and it’s disgusting.”

“Seconded,” Sam says, swallowing half a slice of pizza in one bite. Charlie wrinkles her nose at him, but he ignores her, inhaling the second half before he’s finished chewing the first.

Jo continues, “Cas, you’re his lobster, so just stop fighting it, okay.”

“His what?” Castiel frowns. Charlie laughs while Jo rolls her eyes.

“You’re his lobs-”

“Hey, guys.”

Everyone turns to stare at the newcomer, a short boy who hasn’t gotten rid of his baby-fat yet and is attempting to cover it up with a trim-but-impressive beard. One hand is stuck in his pocket, while the other leans against a black umbrella as he smiles at the table. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Um.” And Castiel turns to look at Charlie, notices the way she’s gone a little pale as she says, “Dean’s mom works here so… cheap pizza?”

“Really?” The boy says, glancing around the restaurant. “Is Dean here?”

“Baf’room,” Sam offers through a mouthful of pizza - he’s not as tense as Charlie and Jo suddenly are, so whatever is happening right now, Sam doesn’t know about it. Jo is trying so hard to avoid catching Castiel’s eye that she’s studying the ceiling, her chin in her hands and her fingers pressed tight against her lips.

Something dark and green churns in Castiel’s gut, and he doesn’t want to know what this is all about.

“Well, I’m waiting for my order anyway, so…” The boy takes Dean’s empty seat next to Castiel, without invitation. Like he knows everyone well enough that he doesn’t need one, and Castiel’s stomach twists again. “It’s been a while. How are you guys?”

Jo keeps staring at the ceiling, and now Sam is staring at her in confusion, having finally picked up on his friends’ discomfort. Charlie leans over and grips both of Castiel’s shoulders, shoving him forward slightly as she says, “Aaron, this is Castiel. You know. _Castiel_?”

“Oh!” Aaron turns to look at Castiel, finally, taking him in. Castiel does the same, all the while trying to convince himself that what he’s thinking has to be wrong. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Aaron says, holding out a hand. Castiel hesitates before taking it.

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same,” he says softly as they shake. Aaron’s smile falters, and he clears his throat before abruptly standing again.

“Well, I should probably… my pizza will be ready any second and just… yeah,” Aaron stumbles over his words, then waves before stumbling over his chair in his haste to get away. Castiel watches until Aaron finally settles himself in the corner nearest the pick-up area, where he does his best impression of Jo, trying not to make eye contact.

Castiel rounds on Charlie, who holds her hands up and cringes when she sees his expression. “Is he one of them?”

“One of-” Charlie lowers her hands, brow furrowed in confusion. “Cas, he’s-”

“Dean!” Jo says suddenly, drawing their attention to Dean and Benny rejoining the table. Dean is smiling like nothing’s wrong, and reaches to take Cas’s hand again, but Jo continues loudly, “Did you see Aaron’s here?” And Castiel almost wants to hug her, grateful that he doesn’t have to decide whether or not to rebuff Dean’s affections.

Dean’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, darting to Castiel, then his entire head shifts as he searches for Aaron. He waves when he finds him, then quickly excuses himself to go say hello. Seeing them together in that cozy corner, smiling so familiarly at one another, sends a white-hot spark of rage into Castiel’s chest, and he turns to Charlie again.

“Aaron’s one of them. Goddammit, and Dean just-”

“ _One_ of them?” Charlie cuts him off, still looking confused. “Cas, what are you talking about?”

“One of the people Dean _slept_ with!” Castiel hisses, only just stopping himself from slamming his fist on the table. Sam makes a face and scoots away from the quiet conversation, closer to Benny, who looks like he’s just enjoying the show.

“Shit,” says Charlie, her hands dropping to her lap. “Is that what he told you?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to be confused. “What?”

“Damn it,” Charlie sighs, running both hands through her hair. “Shit. That fucker. I shouldn’t-...” She drags her hands down her freckled face, making little pink lines, and chews on her lower lip before sighing again. “Cas. Aaron’s not _one_ of the people Dean slept with. He’s the _only_ person Dean slept with.”

Castiel stands up so fast, it sends his chair off-balance, clattering to the floor. The noise grabs Dean and Aaron’s attention, and they both turn to look at Castiel in surprise. Aaron immediately shrinks back, taking a few steps away from Dean, but he’s not the one Castiel is angry with. No, Castiel is absolutely furious with _Dean_ , and the longer Dean keeps staring at him, green eyes flickering between confusion and hurt and guilt, the more outrage Castiel feels.

How _dare_ he? How dare he act like Castiel is overreacting. How can he _not_ have known how much this would upset him? Dean can’t just go from sweetly confessing his feelings, being Castiel’s first sexual partner, then dive straight into a monogamous sexual relationship with another guy, before popping right back into Castiel’s life like that never happened. He can’t just take Castiel on dates that end with sexual encounters at a romantic overlook, when he took some other boy there over and over and over again, like Castiel is no different. Just another piece that fits in a certain slot.

The excuses don’t matter. This isn’t what Castiel meant at all when he said he wanted to wait.

And before he can let that sink in, that maybe this is his own fault and maybe he doesn’t have a right to be angry, Castiel turns to leave, petulantly kicking the chair behind him as he storms towards the door.

It’s still raining, but Castiel is too furious and hurt to care. He mindlessly does a few light stretches before jogging out into the parking lot, and isn’t at all surprised (hell, maybe he’s a little relieved) when he hears Dean calling his name.

“What do you want?” Castiel snaps, not turning around, stubbornly waiting for Dean to come out into the rain with him. “Shouldn’t you be attending to your _boyfriend_?”

“Cas,” Dean says, and that soft, gentle tone just makes Castiel’s hackles rise again. “Come on. Aaron was never my boyfriend.”

“So you had sex with him so often that Sheriff Mills was ready to take you in for public indecency, but he’s not your boyfriend. Right. And I’m _God_.”

“Having sex with someone isn’t the same as having feelings for someone,” Dean clarifies.

Castiel scoffs and brushes wet hair out of his eyes. “Yeah? Tell that to Aaron. I don’t think he got the memo.”

Dean winces, and Castiel cheers internally, considering it a victory that he got anything out of Dean that wasn’t more condescending excuses.

“He knows how I feel about you,” Dean tries again, an edge to his voice now. “He knew from the start. Whatever he got out of it is his own business, but he knew I was never gonna stick around.”

“Then why bother? Why would you-” Castiel makes a frustrated noise, rubbing the back of his neck. “You said you had feelings for _me_ , so I don’t understand how you can spend _months_ having sex with some other guy, and have that still be true.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, but when he takes a step forward, Castiel takes a few back, holding up his hands to keep a distance between them. The last thing he needs right now is to be weak again, and letting Dean touch him would just lead to forgiving him. Dean glances at Castiel’s outstretched arms and sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“Didn’t we already have this argument?” he asks, sounding tired. It just ramps Castiel’s anger up a few notches.

“You failed to mention that you were monogamous. That changes things.”

“ _How_?!” Lightning strikes somewhere, illuminating Dean’s face in a flash of white, just before thunder rolls menacingly around them. Dean jumps, and Castiel tries to pretend he didn’t do the same. “Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else.”

“No,” Castiel says, setting his jaw. “No, Dean, we’re not going to wait to do this, we’re not going to move.” Because if they stop now, Castiel may not be able to bring it up again. “Aaron was the only one you were with. You let me believe otherwise, and that’s bad enough on its own! But for you to stand here and tell me-”

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean reaches over again, and this time Castiel doesn’t have the chance to move back before Dean has a grip on his forearms. “You’re right, okay? I should’ve told you. I should’ve said something back when I first came up with the idea, we shoulda talked about it, and I’m sorry I didn’t. And I’m sorry if that changes how you feel about what we’ve already done.”

Castiel stiffens, furrowing his brow as he waits for the bomb to drop. Dean’s expression would be pleading if it weren’t for the spark of irritation hidden in the twitch of his jaw.

“But we weren’t together,” Dean says. “We’re _still_ not together. _You_ said you wanted to wait. _You_ wanted us to be ready. And like I already told you, this is how I got to be ready. I didn’t want to freak out on you in the middle of trying something new, I didn’t want to put all that on you!”

“You didn’t seem freaked out by what we did last summer,” Castiel mutters. When Dean blinks, surprised, Castiel takes advantage of the moment and twists out of Dean’s grip, only to raise his hands up and grab at the collar of Dean’s shirt, pulling him close. “Did it ever occur to you that that’s what a relationship is _about_ , Dean? Figuring each other out and working through things, together?”

“Um,” Dean manages, his face turning red as he grabs at Castiel’s biceps, trying to keep his balance.

“Did it occur to you that Aaron might like things I don’t, or visa versa? That whatever you learned may not apply once you were actually with me?”

“Well,” Dean sputters, moving his hands up to Castiel’s fists, trying to work himself free. Castiel takes the hint and lets him go, shoving him gently when he does so.

“This is your problem, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t _think_. You have all the good intentions in the world, and that’s what makes you so irresistible, but you have no idea how to handle them without harming everyone around you.”

Dean’s entire face falls, in synch with another rumble of thunder. He wears his pain and guilt so openly that Castiel worries he may have taken things too far. Deep down, he knows that eventually he’ll give in to Dean. Because he loves him. Because he’s wanted this for so long. Because for all his mistakes, Castiel has never met anyone so _good_ , and he can’t bear the thought of losing him.

But Dean’s not ready. If he actually thought that Castiel would ever be okay with his little experiments with Aaron, then there’s no way that Dean is ready for a relationship.

“I have to go,” Castiel says. Dean nods hesitantly, then glances up at the sky, as if he’d forgotten it was raining.

“I should give you a ride,” he says slowly, and his summer green eyes are almost hopeful. Like this is his good intentions coming out the right way, and he can have a better chance to make himself clear.

“No,” Castiel says quickly, taking a few more steps back. “No, I’ll run.”

“It’s raining cats and dogs, Cas.” Dean chuckles softly, but his brow is furrowed in concern. “I don’t want you to get struck by lightning or anything.”

“It’s a short run, I’ll be fine.” Rain is still coming down in sheets while thunder rolls discontentedly overhead, but Castiel is too proud and stubborn to let Dean have this. Still, when Dean hesitates, Castiel breaks just enough to offer, “I’ll text you when I get back to the room.”

Dean blinks, then allows a small smile, a little, “Okay,” and “Be safe,” and “See you soon,” as he turns and heads back inside. For a second, Castiel understands what yearning is, as he watches through the big window, where Dean shakes the water off and rejoins his friends. They’re framed in warm, golden light, and Castiel is stupid enough to deny himself the same comfort, to stay out here in the wet and cold, because he can’t get over the fact that the boy he loves slept with someone else.

They’re not even _together_. Castiel is so stupid.

He inhales deeply and takes off at a run before he can change his mind. He will _not_ go back to Dean with his tail between his legs. He will _not_ apologize, because he is _not_ wrong. He’s not the one fucking up here.

Right?

 

\-----

 

 **From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**8:57pm**

**I made it back.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**8:59pm**

**good!!!! u idiot**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**8:59pm**

**;) jk glad ur safe**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**11:45pm**

**i’m not giving up on you**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:56pm**

**Good. You idiot.**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:58pm**

**(thank you)**

 

**June 8th, 2008**

“You’re hopeless, Clarence.”

Castiel huffs in annoyance, dropping his chin down to rest against the pink marble that makes up the breakfast bar. The arm that’s not busy holding his Blackberry is spread out in front of him, and he wonders why he bothered calling Meg after all.

“I know,” he says petulantly, frowning when she laughs into his ear.

Originally, he’d thought about seeking out Bela’s advice. But then he remembered how things had turned out a few years ago, when she sought a distant Dean out for Castiel’s sake, and he realized that maybe she was too protective to be any good. Not to mention, she had never really gotten around to liking Dean, and this wouldn’t help matters.

Meg, however, is pleasantly neutral about the whole situation. Which is especially interesting considering she had actually dated Castiel for a few months, and admitted later on, after everything ended, that she had started to have real feelings for him, to want things she knew he couldn’t give her. That had been the real reason for their break-up- Meg wanted out before she was in deep enough to get hurt.

Castiel still swears that he never would’ve hurt her, to which Meg always smirks, shakes her head, and changes the subject.

“You do know,” Meg says slowly, as if speaking to a child, “that you and Dean-o weren’t dating, right?”

“I know,” Castiel answers, rolling his eyes. “That’s what everyone says. It doesn’t matter.”

“It totally matters. You can’t bitch about this shit unless he’s yours. And he’s not yours.” She gives a little sigh. “If you’d been like this with me, I probably would’ve slapped you.”

“Been like what?”

“A prissy little chickenshit. You’re _scared_.” She draws the word out in a sing-song sort of taunt. “You were like this last summer too, and frankly, I don’t know how Dean puts up with it.”

Castiel never should’ve made this call.

“You don’t _understand_ ,” he says stiffly.

“Spoken like a true chickenshit,” Meg answers. Castiel entertains the notion of hanging up on her, but realizes it would just invite a slew of teasing texts, and instead opts for a more diplomatic option.

“I need to go, Anna wants me to drive her into town.”

Meg laughs again, clearly seeing right through his lie. “Okay, Clarence, you go ahead and call me when you’re done being a whiny baby.” And before Castiel can respond, she hangs up. Even that seems almost gleeful.

Castiel needs better friends.

“I don’t need to go into town,” chirps Anna. She’s seated on the couch behind him, and Castiel would swear she’d been listening to her iPod when he came into the room, but when he turns around, she’s squinting at him, earbuds draped around her neck. “Don’t involve me in your attempts to avoid people.”

Castiel bristles. “Meg wasn’t listening to me, I needed to get her off the phone without being rude.”

“Because lying isn’t rude.” Anna rolls her eyes. “And you’re the one who called her.”

Why is everyone so intent on making Castiel out to be the bad guy here?

Quiet falls for a moment. A tinny sort of noise is coming from Anna’s earbuds, but she seems happy to ignore it in favor of staring her brother down. “Can I say something?” she asks, flipping her hair off her shoulder.

“You just did,” Castiel responds, but that just earns him another eyeroll.

“You’re avoiding Dean again,” Anna barrels forward. “I’d ask you what happened, but I kind of don’t care, because the real problem is you and Dean are always running away from each other instead of talking about your problems.”

“What the hell do you know? You’re sixteen,” Castiel snaps. “You’ve never been in a relationship.”

“Yeah, and I still know you have to _communicate_ , isn’t that funny?” Anna pulls her hair into a ponytail as she stands, coming to join her brother at the breakfast bar. “Not to mention, Dean is kind of awesome. I was pretty pissed at him for what he did to you a few years ago, but now I’m just kind of mad at you for not jumping on it while you have the chance.”

“He slept with someone else,” Castiel mutters. Anna turns to blink at him, and Castiel takes a little pleasure in her surprise. He only woke up a few hours ago, and already it seems like the whole world is against him, just because he decided not to give in to Dean Winchester’s whims. It’s nice to throw one of his detractors off, and maybe now he’ll have the chance to _explain_ -

“So?”

Now it’s Castiel who blinks, before frowning hard. “‘ _So_?’ _So_ , he’s supposed to want me, right? What the hell is he doing-”

“You weren’t together,” Anna says slowly, putting a hand over Castiel’s, and he’s probably going to lose it on the next person who speaks to him like he can’t remember simple facts. “Dean was -and still is!- a free agent. You can’t be mad at him for that.”

 _Don’t be mad at Dean. You weren’t together. Everyone is tired of this. You’re being a chickenshit. He did it all for you._ Castiel feels like no one is listening to him, like everyone he knows has blinders on when it comes to saintly Dean Winchester. It’s like no one cares about how hurt he is by this, or understands his fear.

Because yes, okay? He’s scared, just like Meg said. Is that wrong? Dean has hurt him before, badly, and this knowledge about Aaron has just hurt him again, only now everyone just seems to think he’s being a child. And that’s not fair, if only because there’s more to his fear than just what happened back in 2006.

“What does it matter?” Castiel hisses, turning away from Anna and staring down at the marble. “Mother and Michael already hate Dean, and Gabe has made it fairly clear that he doesn’t trust him either. So why should I bother? Maybe if I start dating Dean, they’ll all just hate me too.”

“Cas,” Anna gasps, but Castiel keeps rolling on, determined to be heard.

“And I’m starting college in September, two _thousand_ miles away from here, so what’s the point in entertaining Dean for a few months if we’re just going to be separated again so quickly?”

“Cas,” Anna tries again. Castiel flattens his hands against the countertop and ignores her.

“I mean it’s nice for Dean that he’s so secure with his bisexuality, but I don’t even know _what_ I am! I don’t even know if I had real romantic feelings for Meg, or if I just wanted to please her and our parents and be _normal_ , in a _normal_ relationship for a while. And I don’t…” Castiel clenches his fists here, runs a hand through his hair before turning to look at Anna. “I don’t know if I want to be with Dean in a world that will just try to drag us down for being happy.”

Anna’s shoulders slump as she tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“You know how Uncle Zach is,” Castiel says. “Fire and brimstone for homosexual desires, and he wouldn’t be saying it if it didn’t make him money, and it wouldn’t make him money if people didn’t actually believe it.”

“Who cares about those people?” Anna sighs. “Your friends and family don’t care.”

“Right.” A half-hearted little laugh bubbles up from Castiel’s throat. “Mother and Michael don’t care that Dean’s a _boy_. They just care that he’s _poor_.”

Anna’s mouth tightens as she stares her brother down. Finally, she releases a little puff of air before leaning over and pulling Castiel into a tight hug. Her affection is surprising - the Miltons aren’t exactly a touchy-feely family like the Winchesters - but after a second, Castiel relaxes into it, then returns it, wrapping his arms around his sister’s waist and resting his head on her shoulder. She pets her fingers through his hair, and this is almost a nice moment until Anna ruins it by asking:

“So you regret sleeping with him, then?”

Castiel jerks away from her, nearly falling off the stool. She’s smirking at him as he blushes and crosses his arms over his chest, primly responding, “We never slept together.”

“You came in looking pretty ravished after that date.” She waggles her eyebrows, clearly enjoying her brother’s embarrassment. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so pissed off about him sleeping with other people.”

“It’s not that hard to figure out! I’m mad because he was supposed to wait for me, and he didn’t. It has nothing to do with what happened, or didn’t happen, on that date.”

Anna leans forward on the counter, resting her head in one hand as she grins. “Was he good? He looks like he’d be good in bed.”

“Oh my God, you’re my _baby sister,_ I’m not talking about this with you,” Castiel groans, sliding off his stool. He’s about to go commandeer the television and drown out Anna’s teasing, but he freezes as soon as he turns around.

Naomi Milton is standing just outside the entryway, staring back at Castiel. He hadn’t heard the door open, and from the fumbling noises behind him, neither had Anna.

Naomi lifts her chin, studying her children, as Castiel immediately panics about how much she heard. He forces his face to remain neutral even while terror runs rampant in his head, because if he’s lucky enough that she didn’t hear anything about dates or sex or Dean, then he sure as hell doesn’t want to tip her off.

After a long, silent moment, where Anna fidgets next to an impassive Castiel, Naomi finally sighs and drops her suitcase. She looks different, and it takes Castiel a moment to realize that she’s not wearing a pantsuit - her hair is still tucked up in a bun and there are still pearls in her ears, but she’s dressed in a white blouse, black slacks, and flats.

Castiel can’t remember ever seeing his mother in flats before, let alone so dressed down.

“You’re both alive,” Naomi says finally, clasping her hands in front of her. “I suppose that’s the best I could hope for, even if the room is a little messier than I expected.”

Anna and Castiel exchange a confused glance before turning back to their mother. Was that a serious statement, or an actual attempt at humor? Now Castiel knows how people feel when he makes a joke.

“So… you’re done?” Anna asks. “No more tours and red-eye flights?”

“Yes.” Naomi allows a small smile. “As of this morning, Michael has taken over my duties with your uncle, and I am officially retired.” She takes a breath, turning her head to study the hotel room. “It will take some getting used to, I’m sure. Having... time.”

Castiel winces, then ducks his head in the hope that Naomi won’t see. The threat of her swooping down to reel her children back in has been around so long that he never stopped to consider what would happen when she finally came back to roost. She’s made tentative peace with Lucifer, and is at least in contact with Gabriel, so there is an effort being made with those who fled the nest, but whether that effort will extend to Castiel and Anna remains to be seen.

Because yes, Castiel is avoiding Dean now, but they always come back together eventually. Castiel is weak, and he’s accepted that about himself. However far he tries to run, he always gets pulled back into Dean’s orbit, and that’s just how it is. But how will he manage to see Dean again if Naomi is around all the time? He can’t just shove her off on Anna.

Well, he probably could, but Anna wouldn’t appreciate it very much.

Ten minutes in, and it’s already awkward. Naomi isn’t one to fidget, but she does shift her weight just ever so slightly before politely clearing her throat.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting an important conversation.”

Oh God. She heard something. Castiel keeps his face neutral, but it’s a close fight - he feels like he’s going to vomit, and she’s staring right at him, like her eyes are drills that can dig right into his brain and expose all his secrets.

“Not really,” Anna pipes up, and thank God for that because Castiel isn’t sure he could keep a steady tone right now. “I wanted to go into town, and Cas was gonna take me.”

Castiel should really be nicer to his sister, because she is saving his ass right now.

Naomi raises an eyebrow, then nods slowly. “I suppose that would allow me some time to settle in. Has one of you been sleeping in the bedroom?”

“I have,” Castiel says. “But I can clear it out, if you like-”

“No, that’s all right,” Naomi cuts him off, speaking rapidly. “You can stay in there. A boy your age will need privacy.”

Both Anna and Castiel must have the same dumbfounded look on their faces, because Naomi bristles in the silence that follows. “I’ve raised a few boys before you,” she snaps, “I know how it goes by now.”

Not that she was around much for Gabriel and Lucifer when they were eighteen, but Castiel figures it’s a wasted argument. The only thing that could come from it is he’ll end up having to sleep out in the main room with Anna, and to be honest, with the way things have been going lately, a little place to escape to at the end of the day would be nice.

“We’ll give you some time to relax,” Castiel says, ignoring Anna’s pout, “and be back in time for dinner. We can catch up then.”

Naomi keeps her focus on Castiel’s face, where he still maintains a forced neutral expression. If she did hear anything from his and Anna’s conversation, she’s not going to mention it unless he gives her reason to.

“All right,” Naomi says. “I’ll see you at six. Bring something you like for dinner, and we’ll eat it here.”

With that, she finally grips her suitcase again, and walks over to the beds on the other side of the room, placing her suitcase on one to start unpacking. Anna and Castiel exchange a wide-eyed glance of confusion before Castiel grabs his sister’s shoulders and ushers her out into the hallway.

As soon as the door is firmly closed behind them, Anna mutters, “What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea,” Castiel answers honestly. “But this is going to be a really weird summer.”

 

**June 9th, 2008**

Naomi’s bed is empty and made-up, but Anna is still asleep, so Castiel decides to grab a box of cereal and smuggle it into his room for breakfast that morning. It’s not exactly dignified, and he’ll leave crumbs in the sheets, but a maid will be in to change those later today, and no one’s around to witness his binge anyway.

He leans back against the headboard and turns the TV on, but leaves the volume low enough that it won’t bother Anna through the paper-thin walls. It’s early enough that infomercials are still playing, but Castiel leaves it on for background noise as he scrolls through his Blackberry with one hand, and shoves handfuls of Shredded Wheat in his mouth with the other.

Jo and Charlie are trying to convince him to come to a midnight movie with them in a few days, but considering their careful avoidance of Dean’s name, and a suspicious lack of texts from Dean himself, it’s clearly a ploy to get the two of them in the same space again. Castiel figured this game out years ago, and it has never once worked, but the girls like to try anyway.

That said, Castiel kind of wishes Dean _would_ text him. They haven’t spoken since the night of the storm, and while Castiel appreciates being given a little space, he still misses Dean. He knows he’d crack and agree to join them if Dean would just _ask_ \- he might be cold or distant, just to keep up appearances, but showing up at all should send the message that whatever’s going on between them isn’t over.

Right?

Castiel shoves another handful of cereal in his mouth and thoughtfully swipes his thumb over the screen. Maybe Meg and Anna are right. He knows he’s afraid of how badly Dean could hurt him, but maybe keeping his distance isn’t the right way to handle it. Especially when he knows they’ll just end up back together anyway.

Castiel smothers the chiding voice in his head chanting _Weakness!_ and opens up a text message to Dean.

 

 **From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**7:48am**

**I**

 

He pauses. Stares at the screen. Erases it.

 

**We need to t**

 

Pause again. No, that sounds so bad. It’d probably just send Dean into a panic. Castiel erases the message again and starts over.

 

**I’m sor**

 

That’s as far as he gets. The door to his room opens then, and startles him so badly that he tosses his phone out of his hand and knocks the box of cereal on its side. Naomi stands in the doorway, already showered and dressed, blinking curiously at him.

“Did I frighten you?” She asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind her as Castiel tries to hide his scowl by focusing on picking Shredded Wheat off the bedspread. “I apologize.”

“Just knock next time,” Castiel responds.

Naomi nods, and a little tension goes out of her shoulders when she notices the cereal. She rolls her eyes as Castiel closes the box and sets it aside. “You shouldn’t be eating in bed anyway.”

“Anna’s still asleep, where am I supposed to eat?”

“At the table or breakfast bar, like a civilized person.”

Castiel tightens his jaw, but sits up, moving his legs to allow Naomi a seat on the edge of his bed. For a long moment, she just stares at him, and Castiel stares back expectantly, waiting for her to make the first move.

“What were you and Anna talking about yesterday, when I arrived?”

Shit.

Castiel’s eyebrows go up before he can catch himself, but he quickly schools his expression into something more neutral. “What did you hear?” is the smartest response.

Naomi narrows her eyes, fully aware of what he’s trying to do, but says nothing.

Another long moment of eye contact passes, before Naomi finally sighs, her shoulders dropping as she does the last thing Castiel expected: she reaches over and takes his hand in both of her own, gently caging his palm in a stiff but gentle kind of warmth. Castiel glances down at their hands in confusion before looking up at her eyes again.

“Wha-”

“Castiel,” she cuts him off, “I am your mother. I know I haven’t been around very much, but that is still true, as is the fact that I love you.”

Castiel feels his mouth drop open in surprise, but he can’t be bothered to try and change it. He can’t wrap his head around what’s happening here, and Naomi’s own expression is… almost pained. She takes a breath, squeezing his hand between her own before continuing:

“If there’s a problem, or something you’re struggling with, then I want to help you. All you have to do is tell me, and I’ll do what I can.”

This can’t be happening.

Castiel jerks his hand away, but can’t take his eyes off his mother. This is too weird, and he wonders absently if it isn’t just some kind of ploy, or maybe if she’s using him to assuage her guilt over what happened with Lucifer and Gabriel, or even attempting to stop him from following in their footsteps.

Because honestly, he’s thought about it. Now that he’s eighteen, he has access to his savings account through the right channels, and if he wanted to he could pull all that money out and run away. What he’d do with the money, who knows, but he does now exactly where he’d run to, and maybe that’s why he hasn’t done it - it’d be so easy to find him right here in Sileas, with Dean.

But if Naomi knows or suspects anything, what does she have to gain from this tactic? From acting like a concerned mother, like for the last several years she wasn’t more interested in controlling the direction of his life than letting him live it? Even his relationship with Meg was treated as a potential form of free advertising, a way to benefit the family’s investments.

Castiel isn’t stupid. Naomi can sit there and stare at him all she wants, but her retirement doesn’t change anything. It’s always about the betterment of the family. It’s always about status and what other people will say.

“Anything?” he says.

Naomi lifts her chin, just slightly, and confirms, “Anything at all. I just want to help.”

Castiel gathers his courage, and tilts his head so that they’re not looking at one another dead-on anymore. “Even if it’s that I might be gay?” He challenges, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.

But Naomi doesn’t have the visceral reaction he’s expecting. In fact, her eyes soften, and she leans into his space before taking his hand again and whispering, “Are you?”

And that’s the last response Castiel expected. At best, he thought he’d get an eyeroll and an admonishment to be serious; at worst, a thorough tongue-lashing and perhaps being sent off to join Michael and Uncle Zach for the summer. Receiving tenderness and interest instead throws Castiel off-balance, makes him completely doubt where he stands with his mother and what she might be trying to do. She doesn’t benefit if he’s gay, after all. In fact, she stands to lose quite a bit, if a member of Uncle Zach’s family is found to be part of an “alternative lifestyle.” So why should she entertain this notion? Regardless of what she heard yesterday, why should she put up with this?

Her question isn’t one Castiel is sure he can answer anyway. Sure, Dean lights him up in a thousand different ways, makes him feel things that he’s never felt before, but that doesn’t mean he’s never been interested in girls. He never really wanted to go beyond the handsy making out that he and Meg engaged in, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it, and honestly it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have eventually developed an interest in trying more.

Dean is the limit of Castiel’s sexual experience, and Dean is the one who makes him understand the phrase ‘hot and bothered,’ but that doesn’t mean he’s _gay_.

Confusion combined with distrust is what makes Castiel finally, quietly, respond, “No.”

Naomi’s lips tighten, but otherwise, nothing changes. Castiel carefully withdraws his hand and picks the cereal box back up, sliding off the bed to put it back in the kitchen.

Naomi doesn’t follow. The day continues like the conversation never occurred.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! I hope it was worth the wait! If there are any errors, please let me know - it copied twice for some reason, and I think I got it all, but if anything is missing or double, just tell me and I'll fix it ASAP!
> 
> I've already gotten started on the second installment, but fair warning: there are a lot of changes going on at work and I don't know how they're going to effect my schedule, but I am hoping that I'll still be a closer, which means late-start shifts, which means all day free to write! We'll see how it turns out though, everything is still getting situated. 
> 
> I think the next installment will be a little shorter, but one of the scenes involved is an absolute monster so I can't say for sure, haha. I'm going to shoot for updating within a month, but we'll see.
> 
> Again, thank you all for your support and your kindness. Whenever I get frustrated with the story, or with how difficult it is to get it noticed, you guys are there to keep me going and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. Every single one of you. Please let me know if you're enjoying the story with a comment or a message on [tumblr](http://vintagenoise.co.vu)! And please help spread the word if you do like it!


	3. When the Day Met the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta [castielflowercrowns](http://castielflowercrowns.tumblr.com)!!! And thanks to all of you for your patience! I hope this is at least sort of worth the wait!

_You won’t give up that easy, though_   
_You turn to roots, a tree, and grow_   
_Your ivy walls can’t keep me in_   
_I am a heart that’s hard to pin_

**I Am A Heart** , Hey Ocean

 

**June 13th, 2008**

“If you don’t answer this phone the next time I call, I’m coming down there and hauling you out! I don’t care about fancy-ass security or how big you are, I’ll do it! Don’t you test me, Castiel Milton!”

Castiel leans back against the arm of the couch, frowning at the ceiling. This is the fourth voicemail Jo has left, and those mixed in with the three from Charlie has been a wonderful juxtaposition, an expose on good cop-bad cop or war and peace. That’s always been Charlie and Jo, however: sugar and spice, and judging by Jo’s increasingly angry messages, apparently that spice is hot and lingering like cayenne.

Naomi is out with Anna, at the resort’s private beach, so Castiel has the hotel room to himself. The quiet has been nice, but it’s hard to really enjoy it when Charlie and Jo have clearly organized their efforts to harass him into hanging out. It’s been ten minutes exactly since Jo’s last call, and now Castiel’s Blackberry is buzzing in his palm, lit up with Charlie’s name. He heaves a sigh, then opts to answer the phone. He’s not going to win this one, and it’s better to just accept that with dignity.

“Hey, look who’s not dead!” Charlie says cheerfully, after Castiel greets her. “Judging by your not-dead-ness, I’m hoping you’ll be able to join us for ice cream this afternoon?”

Castiel purses his lips. “Who is ‘us?’”

Charlie clicks her tongue, but that’s all the admonishment she gives. “Me, Jo, and probably Pam, since she hasn’t seen you yet. C’mon, you can’t hide out in your fancy hotel forever!”

Castiel stares at his lap for a few seconds before sighing again. “Will it get Jo to stop leaving threatening messages?”

“Yes.”

“Then okay.”

“Great!” This exclamation is followed by muffled noises, probably Charlie conferring with Jo, before her voice comes back on the line, “Is two good for you?”

“That works. See you soon.” Castiel hangs up before Charlie can respond and drops his phone to his lap, leaning back to stare at the ceiling again.

It’s probably a bad thing that he half wishes they’ll surprise him by bringing Dean anyway. Despite his sister’s annoyance, his friends’ prodding, and his mother’s continued pushing, Castiel hasn’t spoken to Dean since the pizza parlor, and the more time stretches behind him, the harder it gets to figure out what to say. He knows Dean has to be panicking by now, wanting to give Castiel space but not wanting to lose him either.

It’s hard to tell someone they’re never going to lose you when you haven’t spoken to them in over a week.

Castiel sighs and pushes himself up. He’s got just enough time to shower and change before running down to meet the girls. Charlie’s not the type to lie, but who knows? Maybe Jo and Pam convinced her this was the best way to get Dean and Castiel back in the same space.

So of course, Castiel just ends up disappointed when he arrives at the ice cream parlor and finds a blonde, a redhead, and a brunette waiting for him, but no freckles and summer green eyes.

Jo and Charlie wave enthusiastically, but Pam is up out of her seat, racing to meet him with a hug. She squeezes tight enough to make Castiel grunt, but he hugs her back and smiles gently, leaving an arm around her shoulder as she leads him back to the table.

“‘S good to see you, handsome,” she says, grinning up at him. “Was starting to think you didn’t like me.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel chastises. “You know you’re my favorite.”

“Blah, blah, blah, Cas is a lying liar who lies,” Jo cuts in as they approach the table. “ _I’m_ his favorite.”

“In your dreams,” Charlie mutters, throwing on a cheeky grin when Jo turns to glare at her.

“You’re all my favorite,” Castiel offers. “Castiel’s Angels, right?”

Charlie’s eyes light up, now clearly full of inspiration for yet another wild pop culture ride with roles for all her friends, but before she can speak, Jo claps a hand over her mouth, keeping her silent.

“Don’t get distracted. You know what we’re here for.”

Castiel groans, dropping his arm off Pam’s shoulder so he can rub his hands over his eyes. “I knew you guys were up to something.”

“Of course we were.” Jo offers up an innocent smile, resting her chin on her hands. “Now go get some ice cream so we can get started on Operation: Deastiel.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” Castiel mutters, though he’s pretty sure he already has a good idea - the portmanteau is pretty unique.

Still, he shoves his hands in his pockets and sulkily heads inside to order a cup of strawberry ice cream, coming back out with an exaggerated pout. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes,” says Jo, and Castiel is absolutely unsurprised that she is unaffected by his sad eyes and over-dramatic frown. “Dean was really hurt that you didn’t come to the movie last night.”

“I’m really not a fan of Ed Norton,” Castiel offers, but is quickly humbled by a triforce of angry glares. He holds up his hands in surrender and sighs. “Alright, alright, alright. I get it. Dean is all sad eyes and freckles like a beagle puppy, so you feel bad for him.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Jo snaps, and Castiel is a little taken aback by her vehemence. Charlie and Pam are frowning at him too, something closer to disappointment on their faces, which allows Castiel to finally realize that this is a lost cause. They’re here to defend Dean, and nothing he says will make them see otherwise.

It’s strange to feel alone when you’re surrounded by friends.

“You guys do this every year,” Jo continues, “and we’re kind of sick of it. You’re so happy and excited to see each other, only for shit to blow up and make you avoid each other, so all we ever hear about is your drama, and I’m just not going to have it this summer. Okay? It’s bad enough that all my friends are leaving me-”

“It’s not about you, Jo,” Pam drawls around the spoon in her mouth.

“- we shouldn’t have to put up with more Dean and Cas bullshit on top of it,” Jo barrels on, ignoring the way Pam rolls her eyes. “I mean, you weren’t there last night, Cas. You didn’t see. We kept telling him you weren’t responding to our texts about the movie, but for some reason he got all hopeful about you showing up anyway. And then you didn’t.”

“How is that my fault?” Castiel argues. Jo furrows her brow and makes a frustrated noise, but Castiel keeps going: “I never said I was going to be there. I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I want him to leave me alone for a while.”

“But when does that end?” Charlie cuts in. “When are you going to see him again? Because if you’re not, then you should at least tell him that. _Him_ ,” she emphasizes when Castiel opens his mouth. “Not us. We’re not going to play messenger for you.”

“I’ll see him again,” comes out slow and reluctant.

“When?”

“When I feel like it.”

“And in the meantime,” Pam says, leaning forward over the table, “Dean is pining away, sad and lonely, because the love of his life has decided it’s easier to ignore him than to deal with what’s wrong.”

Castiel blushes pink and stares resolutely down at his melting ice cream. “Don’t be overdramatic,” he mumbles. The idea that he could be the love of Dean’s life is terrifying and ridiculous - they’re _eighteen_ , after all. Even if Castiel has felt drawn to Dean since they met, even if Dean makes his stomach float and his heart flutter, even if it’s nice sometimes to think about a couple years down the road, owning a white-paneled Victorian home with a front porch and brick chimney, eating Dean’s cooking by the fireplace and going to a soft, warm bed together… Castiel is trying to be realistic here. Most high school sweethearts don’t get married, and those that do don’t always stay married. It’s silly to think that this could be forever, especially with the way Dean has behaved in Castiel’s absence.

Frankly, it’s a miracle Castiel still feels anything for Dean at this point. He’s taken by surprise when this thought occurs to him. Yet again, Dean’s actions have caused Castiel pain, and yet again, Castiel can’t bring himself to stop thinking about him.

He puts a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, just to distract himself, even if it’s more like goopy soup at this point. Pam still has her arms crossed on the table, an eyebrow raised as she studies him.

“I’m the one who told Dean he’d only ever love one person,” she says slowly. “I saw it, right there in the lines on his hand, sweetheart.”

“Then explain Lisa,” Castiel shoots back. “And honestly, this is starting to look like a pattern for Dean, so maybe I don’t _want_ him to love me.”

“Stop being petty,” Jo groans, rubbing her hands over her eyes. “You’re so fucking clueless, Cas, you have no _idea_ -”

“Then _tell_ me!” Castiel gives up on his ice cream, and aggressively tosses the nearly-full cup at the trash can. Pink splashes over the side, and Charlie huffs softly, covering her mouth with her hand. “What is it that I don’t know, Jo? Because what I _do_ know isn’t painting a very pretty picture of your dear friend Dean.”

Jo scowls, her forehead and nose red with frustration. She almost looks like her mother in this moment, though Castiel is sure she wouldn’t appreciate the comparison. “Did you know that he never shuts up about you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Did you know that he got so bad that I would literally have to set aside certain days where he wasn’t allowed to mention you?”

Castiel furrows his brow. Jo takes a breath and keeps going.

“Did you know that even though he was doing his thing with Aaron, he _still_ always talked about _you_? Even around Aaron? Even when his dad was here- oh shit, by the way, his dad knows all about you.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” Charlie pipes up. “I saw them at Dean’s birthday party. They went out on the porch while the rest of us were eating cake, and Dean told me that he was coming out to his dad and mentioned you specifically.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, nodding slowly. “John’s going to want to meet you someday.”

At first, Castiel is almost flattered. Nearly touched. Dean doesn’t talk about his father a lot, even though Castiel could tell from the record collection and the car that John is important to him, regardless of what happened when Dean was a child. So it does mean _something_ that Dean would be willing to take that step with a father he’s only just starting to reconcile with.

But it’s just more mixed signals on a pile of mixed signals. Dean can’t keep Castiel’s name out of his mouth. He’ll come out to his father for Castiel. He’ll smile broadly and look at Castiel like he hung the moon.

But he’ll also sleep with another boy for several months and claim that it was for Castiel’s own good. And his friends are so loyal that they will defend him even if it means ignoring Castiel’s own pain.

“Why are you telling me this?” Castiel says softly. His palms are laid out flat on the table, his chin lifted so he can meet each girl’s eyes. “Why am I being made into the bad guy?”

“You’re not,” Charlie says quickly, though Jo’s tightened jaw and red face say otherwise. Charlie reaches over and places her hand over one of Castiel’s, smiling gently. “You’re not the bad guy. You’re not wrong. Dean should’ve talked about this with you before it all happened, but he didn’t. So now you need to be willing to talk to him about where to go now.”

_Says who?_ , Castiel wants to say, but he bites his lip to hold it back.

“Communication,” Charlie continues. “It’s everything. But one of you has to take the first step.”

Castiel stares at each girl for a few more seconds, then pulls his hands back, sighing. “Thank you,” he says, dropping his gaze to the table. “I appreciate your concern, but, as Charlie said recently, I don’t want our friendship to revolve around Dean and me. So let’s move on, please”

The corner of Charlie’s lips quirk up, and some of the tension flows out of Jo’s face. Pam leans back, her arms relaxed, and Castiel takes a deep breath before saying, “You guys should come over. We can order room service and a movie.”

“Sounds like my kind of night,” Pam says with a wink, sliding out of her seat. The rest follow suit, and Charlie leads the way over to her little yellow Beetle, telling Cas that he’ll have to take shotgun, since his legs are too long to squish into the back. Jo complains that it’s only a two minute drive, but Pam shoves her in the back seat and chastises her for whining too much, and Castiel smiles to himself, remembering why he took to these people as quickly as he took to Dean.

Still, as they pull into the parking lot and Charlie is forced to park between a Lexus and an Audi, Castiel realizes that he’s never brought anyone up to his room before, except Dean. He and Bela once played on the beach with Charlie, but that was as close as she got.

Pam manages to control herself, but Charlie and Jo stare unabashedly at the luxurious lobby, pointing out intricate designs in the rug and arguing about whether the lamp arms are gold or bronze. Jo looks almost excited when she realizes Castiel has to put in a code at the elevator, and sometimes Castiel feels guilty about how different their worlds are, but the girls all seem interested and amused by everything, so he swallows his guilt down and leads the way down the hall to his room.

It’s only when he reaches the door that he remembers that Naomi and Anna should be back by now. Anna’s not a problem, but considering how Naomi once treated Dean… Castiel stops and turns around so quickly that Charlie jumps in surprise.

“My mother will probably be in there,” Castiel says. “I forgot. She’s retired now and trying to spend time with us and I just… she didn’t treat Dean very well when she met him, so…”

He trails back, thinking of his conversation with Naomi just a few days ago, and how he still doesn’t know what she was trying to achieve. There’s a chance that she might be trying to make amends, but Castiel truly doesn’t know.

“If she’s… rude?” Castiel whispers, “Just ignore her. That’s just… how she is.”

“Dean told us,” Charlie whispers back, Jo nodding along behind her. “We’re prepared for a little old-fashioned classism.”

Castiel smiles in spite of himself, and puts the key in the door.

Anna is splayed out on the couch, watching South Park reruns, and she lifts her head as Castiel and his friends shuffle through the door. She rolls onto the floor as soon as she recognizes her brother’s companions, and scrambles over to scoop Jo up in a hug, waving cheerfully at the other girls.

“Cas finally decided to stop being a hermit?” Anna jokes, an arm still slung around Jo’s shoulders as the girls laugh. Castiel frowns and rolls his eyes.

“Can we not? Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s been through enough today,” Charlie says, waving the tension away with her hands. “Tell me, Anna: what can you recommend on the room service menu?”

Anna grins, bright and sharp, and leads the way into the main room. “Plenty of items, my dear.”

Castiel follows slowly, and only notices his mother standing in the micro-kitchen once he’s reached the couch. He glances at the girls, whom Anna has gathered around the phone, pointing out her favorite dishes on the room service menu, then turns back to Naomi with a small smile.

“These are my friends,” he says softly, stepping towards her. She’s dressed in a soft sweater and jeans, with a mug of tea in her hand, and is watching the girls with a strange expression. “Jo, Pam, and Charlie. They’re good people, and I’m sure they want to meet you-”

He stops when Naomi holds up her free hand. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, before suddenly plastering on a wide, white smile - not unlike Anna’s - and stepping forward, a spark in her eyes as she extends a hand to a surprised Pam.

“I’m Naomi, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you ladies,” she says, a friendly note in her voice, and Castiel is reminded of attending large parties in fancy clothes, watching his mother laugh with strangers only for that joyful mask to fade as soon as they were safely in the limo, on their way home. Pam shakes the offered hand, as does Charlie and Jo, offering their own names as they do so, and Anna and Castiel exchange a look while their mother chatters on about nothing.

After a few moments, Anna gently reminds Naomi that they were going to order dinner, and Naomi laughs, declining Charlie’s kind invitation to join them. “You kids have fun,” Naomi says, almost musically, before turning back to Castiel. She gives a more genuine smile when she sees the look on his face. “See? I can be nice.”

Castiel bites his lower lip. “When they’re not Dean.”

Naomi raises an eyebrow and straightens her back. “That was years ago, Castiel. Situations change.” She hesitates, then softly adds, “People change.”

Castiel stares back at her for a long moment, then drops his eyes when his friends erupt in laughter, a joke he didn’t hear.

Naomi glances over her shoulder, then nods briefly. “I’ll leave you alone if you’re quiet, but the door will remain ajar.” She narrows her eyes and points a finger at Castiel’s chest. “Do you understand?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Mother, weren’t you just trying to get me to admit that I’m gay?”

“Yes. And you told me you’re not.” Naomi smiles when Castiel blinks at her, his shoulders going tight. “The door stays open. Have fun.”

She pats him on the shoulder as she passes, heading towards the private room that Castiel has been sleeping in, and leaving the door open just a crack, as promised. Castiel stares after her in confusion until Jo yells his name, dragging his attention back to their plans for the night.

 

**June 15th, 2008**

It shouldn’t be this hard to make a phone call.

Castiel flips his Blackberry over in his hand a few more times, staring out the window. The weather is perfect today, blue skies with a nice breeze, and he woke up feeling brave for some reason.

Still, deciding over breakfast that it’s time to call Dean, isn’t quite the same as _actually_ calling Dean.

What does he even want to say? He’s still angry, after all, though that has faded enough to be outweighed by hurt and distrust. If he’s still feeling these things, why does he want to call Dean at all?

Because he misses him. Bottom line. It’s been over ten days since they spoke last, and Castiel misses his friend. It was like this after everything went to hell back in 2006 too: a lingering ache in Castiel’s chest that offered up Dean’s name or face whenever Castiel felt particularly lonely. However much Dean has hurt him, Castiel can’t let go anymore. He’s in too deep. That’s all she wrote.

God only knows how bad it will have to get before Castiel finally cuts all ties. He hopes he never has to find out.

The Blackberry is ringing in his ear before he even realizes it, and a breathless “Cas?” ends the ringing before Castiel can change his mind.

“Hello,” says Castiel.

“Hey,” says Dean, and when Castiel can almost hear the smile on his face, it brings a helpless smile to his own. “Hey, Cas, hey, um… how are you?”

There’s a voice shouting in the background that sounds an awful lot like Bobby, plus the clanking of metal and the low rumble of an engine. Dean curses quietly, but otherwise seems content to wait until Castiel responds.

“I’m well,” Castiel says after a long moment. He wants to add something comforting, something like I miss you, but manages to rein that weakness in. “How are you?”

“Been better, that’s for sure,” but he’s laughing as he says it, so Castiel tries not to take it as a barb. “Still here though, so that’s something.”

“Something good,” Castiel insists, and Dean chuckles.

“What can I do for you today, handsome?”

Castiel blushes despite himself, tucking his chin into his neck. “I, um… I wanted to know if you’d have lunch with me today.”

“Oh. Um. Well… jeez, Cas,” Dean stammers, “I just got back from break, and I’m working until four.”

“Oh,” and Castiel isn’t very good at keeping the disappointment out of his voice. Which is strange, considering how long he put this off for. In fact, the disappointment _itself_ takes him a little by surprise. “Well-”

“I wanna show you something,” Dean blurts out, catching Castiel by surprise. “If that’s okay.”

Castiel hears it clearer now, Bobby yelling at Dean to get off the damn phone, but Dean just huffs and stays on the line, waiting patiently for Castiel’s response.

“What do you want to show me?” Castiel asks carefully.

“Something _awesome_.”

Castiel hums. “So it’s a surprise?”

“An _awesome_ surprise.”

“Well, how can I say no to that?”

And in an instant, something changes. The light looks different, the room feels warmer, and Castiel anxiously runs his palm over the blanket when Dean gasps a little laugh in his ear.

“Meet me at the garage at four?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” Dean says, and those two little words are so earnest it’s almost painful. “I gotta go or Bobby’s gonna rip my head off, so… see you soon?”

“Yeah. See you.”

Castiel tosses his phone aside and slumps back into the pillows with a sigh. Okay. They’re getting together. They’re going to talk. This will make everything better, and everyone can leave them alone, and Castiel can get rid of this guilty feeling tugging at his stomach, the one that’s at war with the anger in his head and the pain in his chest.

If he’s in love with Dean, why does he have so many negative feelings attached to him? This can’t be right.

But that’s what they’re going to talk about. They _have_ to talk about it. Castiel just needs to figure out _how_.

 

\------

 

There are no right words to say. This is impossible. Everything is just tangled up in knots of Aaron and Lisa and Meg and vodka and fights and fear, and Castiel has no idea where to begin.

It’s 3:59 P.M. and Castiel is sitting in his rental car, staring at his hands. He’s parked on the street near the garage, and trying to convince himself to just leave. There’s no point to this. They’ll just end up fighting again and Castiel has really had all he can take of fighting, so it’s better just to lock himself away in the hotel room until his friends take the hint and stop trying to force this to work.

Castiel glances up. The clock now reads 4:01 P.M. Against his better judgement, he turns to look out the passenger side window, just in time to see Dean stepping out of the lobby door, a brilliant smile on his face. He looks incredible, almost glowing in the light of a late summer afternoon. How he can smile like that, vibrant and joyful, Castiel doesn’t know, but he can feel his resolve weakening at the sight of it. Dean is sunshine in human form, and as much as Castiel wants to turn the car back on and speed off, terrified of being burned beyond recognition, he finds himself opening the door and stepping out, squinting at Dean over the roof of the car.

He is drawn to Dean’s light. Blinded by it too, it seems.

When Castiel moves to the sidewalk, Dean notices him, and amazingly, seems to brighten even more. He waves to whoever is in the lobby, then jogs over to meet Castiel. His arms are extended forward, but as he gets closer they start to drop, and his smile starts to fade into something uncertain, like rainclouds covering the sun. Something in Castiel’s expression must have given away his nervousness, so when Dean is close enough, Castiel reaches out with one hand to pull him into a hug.

It’s awkward. It’s _so_ awkward, the way Dean drops one hand to Castiel’s shoulder but quickly removes it, doesn’t try to pull Castiel closer or hold him or nuzzle him, and Castiel finds himself mourning the loss when Dean pulls away and shrugs, forcing a laugh.

“Hey, so….” Dean fidgets, hands in his pockets as he looks up and down the street, swinging back on his heels. “Hi, um. How are you?”

“Okay,” Castiel answers, watching Dean’s anxious body language and trying not to let it make him anxious too. “How are you?”

“Great. Awesome. You, uh,” Dean swallows and manages a grin. “You’re actually here. I wasn’t sure-... I mean, I hoped, but, y’know, you’ve been hard to get a hold of lately.”

_For good reason_ , Castiel thinks, and straightens his back. Dean’s eyes sweep over his body before darting away, and he rocks on his feet once again.

“That’s okay, though,” he mutters, mostly to the ground. “You don’t have to hang with me if you don’t want to.”

And if Dean’s kind, noble nature is his best part, then this is his worst. That casual, easy acceptance of rejection, as if he doesn’t think he deserves any of Castiel’s attention. It’d be manipulative coming from anyone else, but Castiel knows that that’s not how Dean is, and that kind of innocent honesty just breaks his heart. This is what makes Dean so dangerous, and Castiel can’t stop himself from reaching over and taking Dean’s hand. The surprise that crosses Dean’s face just makes Castiel feel even worse.

“What did you want to show me?” Castiel asks, in lieu of an apology or an argument.

Dean studies his face for a moment more, then gives up a hesitant smile, gently tugging on Castiel’s hand. “C’mon. Right over here.”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to be surprised: Dean is leading him towards the abandoned building next to the garage, the one Dean painted after that awful summer a couple years ago. The one that has electric blue eyes weeping a thunderstorm around a lost little rowboat that represents Dean.

That mural always leaves Castiel feeling unsettled. He’s well aware that Dean has self-worth (and other) issues that he’s seeing a therapist for, but that strange, dark painting is like a glimpse into Dean’s head, and it’s terrifying. Castiel doesn’t like to think about how this is what Dean was going through back then, that he felt so lost and alone and only continued to isolate himself instead of talking to anyone. It makes Castiel concerned that Dean could fall back into that space, and no one would know until it was too late.

If he did, it might be Castiel’s fault. He’s not sure he can handle that kind of pressure.

Dean doesn’t take him to the mural, however. He leads Castiel around the side of the building, and pulls a key out of his back pocket to unlock a door. He smiles at Castiel again before tugging him inside, closing the door behind them.

“It’s an empty room,” Castiel says, glancing around. It’s a decent size, at least, with large windows facing the side road, and a naked mattress in the far corner. Dean laughs softly as he heads further inside.

“The fun part is upstairs,” he says, stretching up to reach a string hanging from the ceiling, pulling on it until a folded ladder clatters down towards the floor. “Come on.”

Dean leads the way up the ladder, with Castiel close behind. He allows Dean to help him off the last step and onto the floor, and loses his breath as soon as he lifts his head.

This floor has two arched windows facing Main Street, and they’re high enough to have a view of the ocean, but that’s not what catches Castiel’s attention. Lit up by the afternoon sun, Castiel spins around to see the other three walls, each with an unfinished mural. The wall to his right is painted in mottled reds and browns, filled with flames and pained faces. The back wall is black and white and gray, a river separating gray human silhouettes from monsters with sharp teeth, and to the left is blues and whites and golds, clouds and sunlight, and when Castiel looks closer he can see that the finished faces are clearly Jo, Charlie, and Sam. There are others in that crowd, joyfully welcoming a currently-faceless body into their midst, and when Castiel turns back to the opposite wall, he recognizes a face he hasn’t seen in a long time: Alastair, grinning mercilessly at the screaming body that kneels before him.

“Hell,” Castiel says without thinking, then quickly turns to point at the blue wall. “And Heaven?”

“And Purgatory,” Dean finishes, gesturing at the back wall, a satisfied expression on his face. “It’s not finished yet - may not be for a while - but do you like it?”

“Dean,” Castiel breathes. “This is… it’s _beautiful_.”

“It’s not even done yet,” Dean says bashfully, but his eyes are all aglow as he searches Castiel’s face, as Castiel takes a few steps back to try and get the whole picture. “There’s still a lot of work left to do.”

“Yes, but what you’ve already done…” Castiel loses his words, unable to focus on any single detail for longer than a few seconds. It’s true, there’s still a lot of white space left, but the color schemes alone are glorious, and the sketchy guidelines show plenty of promise. The Hell side is the closest to being done, and even though not all the faces are painted yet, Castiel still reaches out to touch the kneeling body. “Is this you?” he asks, palm pressed flat against the painted figure’s back.

“Yeah,” Dean responds gruffly.

Castiel lifts his hand and points at the back wall, towards a figure brandishing an oddly-shaped machete. “That too?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks at the floor, shuffling his feet. “That’s, um… when I get upset, that’s kind of what it’s like, I guess. Fighting monsters.”

When he gets upset. The thing that Castiel knows is present but has never entirely understood, the way that Dean questions himself and sometimes ends up silent and curled inward, his hands pressed against his head as he fights his way back to reality. Fighting the monsters in his mind, all alone.

“That’s not what Purgatory is,” Castiel mumbles absently. Behind him, Dean laughs.

“Yeah, well, sitting around waiting for people to purify me through prayer don’t make for an interesting picture.”

Castiel smiles despite himself. “Doesn’t fit the narrative too well either, I guess.” He walks towards the Heaven wall, dragging his fingertips over Charlie’s hip. “Your own _Divine Comedy_. Your friends welcoming you at the Gates to Paradise.”

Footsteps echo behind him, Dean stepping closer, but he keeps his hands to himself. “Of course. Where else would they be?”

“Who’s your Beatrice? Me?” And Castiel means for it to be a joke, but it doesn’t quite sound that way when he says, “Aaron?”

He turns just in time to catch Dean’s wounded look before he can get himself under control. “Look, Cas-”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Castiel says quickly. Dean shakes his head, reaching over to grip Castiel’s forearm, as if he’s afraid Castiel will run away. He’s not wrong to be worried; that usually is Castiel’s first instinct, after all. Avoid the problem, one way or another.

“No, no, you…” Dean sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I fucked up. I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking at it from your point of view, I just thought…”

Castiel squints as Dean struggles to find the right words. He hadn’t expected to receive an apology, with the way their last encounter went and the way Dean’s friends have risen to defend him. But that’s just Dean’s nature, isn’t it? To take on a burden, whether he deserves it or not? Yes, this one _is_ deserved, but Castiel can almost understand Jo and Pam’s defensiveness now: Dean looks sad and scared and vulnerable, and he takes on so many albatrosses that aren’t his to carry that it must be practically instinct for the girls to jump in front of him and stand as his armor. And they don’t even know half of what Castiel knows.

“Dean, you don’t-”

“Cas, come on,” Dean snaps, dropping his hands to his sides. “I don’t want us to tiptoe around each other all the time, didn’t I make that clear last year?” He exhales roughly, running his fingers through his hair as Castiel remembers an argument in Dean’s kitchen, an attempt at a stolen kiss that Castiel wasn’t ready to give. “If we fight, I want us to fight and talk and listen and deal with it. Okay? I can’t… I can’t _function_ if I’ve got all this shit in my head and no way to get it out.” He waves his fingers around the air above his head, apparently trying to demonstrate his state of mind. “We need to… we’ve gotta talk about it, man. Even if it’s hard.”

But Castiel doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t know how. Dean has the luxury of therapy, of a mother who is interested in his life and who he is, and Castiel only knows how to shove everything deep down into his core, so he can stand up straight and offer smiles to strangers.

He only knows how to be like his mother.

The realization pushes the breath out of Castiel’s lungs, and he looks helplessly at Dean. “You’re not going to lose me,” he says quickly, apropos of nothing. Dean blinks, his eyebrows rising on his forehead, and Castiel shakes his head. “I mean… if I want space. If I push you away. I’ll…” And he has to fight, almost has to rip the words from his throat, afraid of baring this much to Dean but knowing that it needs to be done: “I’ll always come back. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Dean shrinks a little, his eyes darting towards the window, then the floor, where he shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “Even after this?” he mumbles.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but…” Dean sighs, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, then slowly dropping them, taking and releasing a controlled breath. “The thing with Aaron, it was never a relationship. We get along well, but I never saw him as a boyfriend. I never even thought of him as a _lover_ , y’know, it was just…” He shrugs, still preferring to stare at the ground or the window instead of looking at Castiel. “We were figuring stuff out. He’d never been with a guy before and wanted to try stuff, and I didn’t want to freak out on you or hurt you when _we_ finally started doing stuff.” Dean shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “I should have told you. I shouldn’t have lied. Hell, I shouldn’t have gone through with the stupid idea in the first place, I should have known it’d hurt you. I _did_ know it’d hurt you, I just…” He sighs. “I didn’t think it’d hurt you _this much_.”

And Castiel has a lot to say to that. Hearing that just lights that angry spark in Castiel’s chest, burning his windpipe and tongue with all the words he has to bite back. “You _knew_ , and you did it _anyway_?”

“Look, _you_ said you wanted to wait!” Dean snaps back, though there’s less anger in his tone, and something a bit more akin to desperation. “We weren’t together. You’re not my boyfriend. I didn’t cheat. I knew you had feelings for me, but I _still_ don’t know the… the _depth_ of those feelings. I don’t...” He swallows, now pointedly staring at his shoes. “I don’t know if we’re on the same page, here, y’know?”

_Oh_. Castiel tightens his jaw, feels heat rise in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Dean doesn’t _know_. “That… that doesn’t excuse it,” Castiel manages to say, and Dean nods quickly.

“I know. I fucked up, I know. I’m sorry.”

Dean is apologizing, and Castiel is finally starting to put the puzzle pieces together, wondering if he shouldn’t be apologizing too. Dean doesn’t know. He has no idea. And thinking back on it, Castiel can’t really think of a reason why he should. It’s not like Castiel has made his feelings obvious in the past. He’s typically been the one to show some restraint, push Dean away and tell him no when he gets too close. So no wonder Dean would think Castiel could just brush this off.

Castiel twists his fingers together, shifting his weight between his feet, and says nothing.

Dean watches him intently, then sighs. “You’re still mad. Okay. You can leave if you want-”

Castiel steps forward, reaching out to grab Dean’s hand. Dean actually gasps, instinctually attempting to pull away, but Castiel just tightens his grip, tugging him closer. “I don’t want to leave,” Castiel says firmly. “I am still angry, but I missed you, and I don’t want to leave. I want you to show me more paintings.”

After a slight hesitation, Dean smiles. It’s small but pleased, and he gently squeezes Castiel’s hand before guiding him towards one of the windows, indicating that he should have a seat on the floor. “I’ll be right back,” Dean says. “Enjoy the view.”

And Castiel does, watching as Dean walks towards a door hidden under crimson paint, his boots echoing heavy on the wooden floor. Castiel smiles to himself, leaning back against the window frame as he turns to watch the ocean, waves crashing under a bright blue sky. It is a beautiful day, and behind the buildings across the street, he can see tiny figures playing in the sand. Maybe, once they’re done here, he can talk Dean into heading down to the beach for a while.

He’s jarred out of daydreams of a bare-chested Dean by the sound of something large and heavy dropping next to him. He jumps, frowning at Dean’s sheepish grin, as Dean kneels to settle a small stack of canvas next to Castiel’s legs. “Here’s some finished ones that I like,” Dean says, holding his sketchbook to his chest as he takes a seat on the other side of the window frame. Their legs tangle comfortably as Dean settles in, not-so-subtly hiding behind his sketchbook when he says, “I hope you like them too.”

Castiel huffs, filled a sudden fondness as he blindly reaches for the first canvas. To his surprise, it’s a self-portrait, as is the one underneath. He’s never seen Dean draw himself before, and it’s somewhat shocking to see how Dean sees himself while the real thing is cheerfully tapping his foot against Castiel’s knee. The first portrait is soft and green, with Dean’s eyes, lips, and freckles exaggerated. It’s saccharine and strange, straddling the line between childlike and sexual, and even though Castiel isn’t sure where this version of Dean came from, he’s still horrifically fascinated by it, by the overwhelming forest of eyelashes and the plush pink lips.

And it’s certainly better than the other portrait, which is twisted in an entirely different way. This one has the same color scheme as the Hell wall, with Dean’s eyes and chest portrayed as black holes spitting smoke, shark-like teeth protruding from his mouth and piercing his lips and tongue, blood dripping over his chin. Castiel finds himself frowning at this picture, something caught in his throat as he puts the two portraits together and tries to solve the puzzle.

“Dean,” he says, giving up and turning the portraits around. “What… what are these about?”

“Oh!” And Dean’s face practically lights up. He sets his sketchbook aside to take the green portrait from Castiel, smiling down at it. “Sonny gave me an art humanities textbook, and I kinda fell in love with Frida Kahlo. She painted mostly self-portraits, y’know? They’re just…” he trails off, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to his chest. “You can feel her pain when you look at them. She shows how emotional pain can feel physical, and what that physical pain feels like, and I… I wanted to try it.”

Neither portrait seems particularly painful, except in the sense that Castiel is worried that Dean could actually see himself as either one of these things. “Dean…”

“I know,” Dean chuckles, “they’re not quite on her level. But I’m pretty happy with them. This one,” he flips the green portrait around for Castiel to see again, “is how I think people see me. The other one is what I feel like inside.”

Castiel actually winces, staring down at the painting in his hands. “Really?” he asks softly, frowning at the blood and smoke.

“Well, not all the time,” Dean answers brightly, setting the green canvas aside and shifting to slide the red one from Castiel’s fingers. He offers up a sweet sort of half-smile, gently taking Castiel’s hand in his own, which means Castiel’s expression must give away how much that painting upset him. “Hey. I only feel like that when I get really low, okay? It’s been a long time since I’ve let it get that bad.”

“You shouldn’t _ever_ feel like that,” Castiel says fiercely, gripping Dean’s hand even tighter. “And I don’t see you like that other painting, you’re not-”

“I know,” Dean cuts him off, still smiling, rubbing his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles. “I know you don’t, don’t worry about it. Here.” Dean releases Castiel’s hand and nudges the next painting in the stack, his mouth stretching into a grin. “Take the next one. I think you’ll like it.”

Castiel watches as Dean stacks the two offending paintings aside and reaches for his sketchbook again,, looking almost pleased with himself. Unable to figure out why, Castiel takes Dean’s advice and picks up the next painting… immediately recognizing his own face.

Dean is in this one too, though his facial features are far more accurate, which calms Castiel somewhat. The painted version of Castiel is dressed in silver and blue, backlit by a sliver of moon; pressed against his back is Dean, dressed in playful oranges and yellows, backlit by a setting sun. Castiel squints at this arrangement, something familiar trying to find itself in his brain, until he notices the umbrella tree painted behind the two figures, and he smiles despite himself.

“Dean,” he says, “is this one based on a song?”

Dean doesn’t look up from his sketchbook, but Castiel can see pink rising in his cheeks. “Jo told me one of the songs on the new Panic at the Gay Bar album made her think of me and you. So I listened to it - _only once!_ \- and painted that.”

“I like it.”

“You can keep it if you want it.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “You don’t want to put it in a gallery someday? You could probably hang a bunch of paintings downstairs as a gallery, if you wanted. Maybe sell a few.”

Dean snorts. “Who’d want to buy my stupid paintings? Half of them are of you, anyway.”

“Really?”

Dean looks up, meeting Castiel’s eyes. After a long moment, he exhales and sits back, flipping his sketchbook around to show what he’s been working on: there aren’t a lot of details, but it’s clear he was sketching Castiel, playing with the shadows from the sunlight through the window.

“I paint you so often, Sonny keeps saying he wants to meet my ‘Helga,’” Dean says with a shrug and a roll of his eyes.

_Helga?_ “I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel says. Dean grins.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gestures at the remaining paintings. “Keep going and you’ll see.”

Dean turns back to his sketchbook, so Castiel takes another longing look at the Moon and Sun painting before reaching for the next few paintings.

Castiel as an angel dressed in gold, reaching towards the sky, powerful and sensual at the same time.

Castiel drowning in a sea of brightly-colored flowers, a serene smile on his face.

Castiel with a hand over his mouth, the other extended forward in forced perspective.

All with the same electric blue eyes that don’t match Castiel’s at all, even if every other detail is correct.

And every detail _is_ correct, even without a proper reference, and this last painting, of Castiel reaching for the viewer but keeping his distance at the same time, just makes Castiel’s heart ache as he realizes that all these paintings, all those hours spent tracing lines and choosing colors and finalizing details, this is Dean’s declaration of love. But Dean has no idea how Castiel feels, because Castiel keeps him at arms length.

Just like the painting.

“I used to be afraid that you’d forget me,” Castiel says, suddenly enough that it makes Dean jump, his boot momentarily digging into Castiel’s leg.

“What?”

“The first time I left Sileas after meeting you, I was afraid you would forget me. That we’d fall out of touch.” He can’t look at Dean as he says this, staring intently at the painting in his lap instead. “I treasure every drawing you send me, and that one year where you didn’t send any because I was angry at you, that was…” He takes a shaky breath, “Every month that went by without some new sketch of Batman in my mailbox, hurt a little more than the last.”

“Cas-”

“I don’t want you to see me this way,” Castiel pushes on, flipping the canvas around. Dean stares at the painting, then furrows his brow, and Castiel hates this. He _hates_ that Dean has this kind of pull on him, that he can’t just let this go, that even after everything Dean has done, Castiel still feels guilty over something as simple as trying to protect himself from whatever Dean might do in the future. He doesn’t want to be hurt again, doesn’t want to be a slave to Dean’s whims, but more than that, more than _anything_ , he doesn’t want to be seen as a fucking ice queen.

He doesn’t want Dean to think that Castiel’s not head over heels in love with him, because he _is_. It’s weak and pathetic and terrifying, but Castiel can’t help falling every time he makes Dean laugh, every time they sit too close and let the electricity gather between them, every time Dean’s fingertips make contact with his skin. But he can’t say it yet. He can read it all over Dean’s paintings, but he doesn’t want to hear it and can’t make himself say it, gagged by the fear of leaving himself that vulnerable.

“This isn’t me,” Castiel continues, softer this time, and carefully sets the painting aside before rubbing his hands over his face. “It’s not.”

When Dean doesn’t respond, Castiel peers through his fingers to see a fond sort of smile sitting on Dean’s lips. Castiel blushes behind his palms, embarrassed, as Dean puts his sketchbook down and crawls over to Castiel’s side of the window, gently gripping Castiel’s hands and tugging them out of the way, leaning down to press a kiss to Castiel’s forehead.

“I think you missed the point on that one,” Dean mumbles against his skin. Castiel closes his eyes and clings to Dean’s warm hands.

“What do you mean?”

“Lisa told me, when we broke up, that she realized we weren’t any good together because she was an enabler.” Dean sits back, kneeling between Castiel’s legs, letting their hands rest in his lap. “She didn’t use that word, of course,” he chuckles, “I got that from Missouri. But that’s what Lisa was. She thought it’d make me happy if we had sex and she drank and went to parties with me.”

Dean releases one of Castiel’s hand to tip his chin, still smiling like he has a secret. “She realized what she was doing when you got my mom and came to rescue us. Lisa said I was lucky to have you, because you’re not afraid to give me what I need instead of what I want.”

Castiel blinks, his face warm as he soaks up Dean’s proximity. That incident was years ago, was the cause of most of the friction between them. Castiel’s decision to tell Mary about Dean’s whereabouts had directly led to Dean saying Castiel was the worst thing that ever happened to him, officially breaking Castiel’s heart. It’s not a time that Castiel likes to think about, and to see Dean smiling as he talks about it makes Castiel a little uncomfortable. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m… I have a lot of problems.” Dean grins sheepishly, shrugging slightly. “I’m working on it, but I still fuck up. A _lot_. You’re the only one who really tells me when I do and helps me dig myself out. And I…” He stops, his cheeks turning pink as he suddenly turns to look out the window. “I just wanted to try and capture that. When you stopped me from kissing you last year.”

“But it looks like I’m pushing you away,” Castiel protests. “I know I do that. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“You were in a relationship! I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you, of _course_ you pushed me away!”

“That’s not what I mean-”

“I know.” Dean rolls his eyes. “If you decide you don’t want to see me for a while, then I figure I probably deserve it. I definitely deserved it over Aaron.”

He’s not going to understand, and Castiel isn’t sure how to explain it to him. This relationship has become tangled beyond repair, and between Castiel’s tendency to shut down and run away, and Dean’s genuine belief that he deserves whatever punches he gets, Castiel is starting to worry that it can’t be fixed.

“Do you ever wish we could’ve had a normal relationship?” Castiel asks, distractedly playing with Dean’s fingers. “That maybe if we lived in the same town, this wouldn’t be such a mess?”

Dean studies Castiel’s face, then smiles down at their hands. “Do you?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel sighs. “It might’ve been worse.”

“It might’ve been better. I wouldn’t have messed up with this whole Aaron thing, if you lived in town. And it would’ve been nice to go to school together and all that.”

Castiel smiles slightly. “I do wish you could’ve been my prom date.”

Dean’s smile grows. “Yeah. I bet you’re gorgeous in a suit.”

They smile stupidly at each other for a moment, each probably picturing what his prom would have been like with the other on his arm. Dean finally breaks the spell by saying, “I’m sorry I slept with Aaron, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it.”

“I know.” And Castiel feels a little lighter when he says, “I’m sorry I shut you out.”

“Don’t be. I definitely deserved it.” Castiel wants to argue with him, but when Dean shifts closer, cupping his hands around Castiel’s face, he loses his train of thought. “Can I kiss you now?”

Castiel nods dumbly, and wishes that Dean could see himself like this. That small, hopeful smile, freckles dashed charmingly across his nose and cheeks, his skin lit up golden as the sun descends towards the horizon. If Castiel were a painter, he’d paint this picture every day, of Dean leaning in to kiss him and looking like some sort of angel, lowering his head for prayer.

It occurs to Castiel that that’s what Dean sees _him_ as, just before Dean’s lips press against his own. It’s sweet and short and it means everything, and Castiel only barely keeps himself from gripping Dean’s shirt and pulling him back in for more, when Dean sits back on his heels and gives him the radiant smile of the redeemed.

“Do you want to come get dinner with me at the Roadhouse?”

That sounds like a date, and Castiel is still nervous about how easy it is to say, “Okay.” But he’s probably just overthinking it.

Right?

 

**June 20th, 2008**

Nights like this, Castiel thinks, are where fairy tales come from.

And he realizes that’s stupid, of course. An evening spent eating ice cream cones on the beach and holding hands and trading sweet, sticky kisses is the stuff of overly-saccharine teenage daydreams, not Andersen and Grimm.

But this _feeling_. This floaty sort of happiness in his chest, the smile that hurts his cheeks but won’t go away, that’s what True Love’s Kiss is about. It’s what all those love songs are about. His veins are thrumming and his stomach is swooping and he feels like he could do just about anything, and it’s like the whole world is clear in this moment, as he rides up the elevator to his hotel room and replays his date with Dean in his head.

This is what was missing when he held hands with Meg; there’s a pleasantness that comes from being close to someone, from feeling fondness and affection… and then there’s fireworks and bubbles and the genuine contentment of knowing that someone knows you so well and still wants to be around you.

What was Castiel ever afraid of? Dean never _means_ to hurt anybody, and he’s been so sweet the last few days.

Castiel is humming a Disney song under his breath as he unlocks the hotel room door, lost in the fog that comes with Dean’s tender, devoted kisses. They agreed to see each other again tomorrow, after Dean gets off work, and Castiel is caught up in daydreams and wishes of what might come next-

“Ah, there you are!”

Castiel is so startled that he stumbles into the wall, and he doesn’t even feel the pain in his shoulder as he stares at his eldest brother’s bright smile. “Michael,” Castiel says, “what are you… when did you get in?”

“Mother asked me to visit for a day or two,” Michael answers, gesturing to where Naomi is seated on her bed, staring straight ahead at a point just past Castiel’s ear. Anna is nowhere to be seen. “She had a few… concerns.”

“Concerns?”

Michael nods slowly, still smiling that game-show-host smile as he puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and guides him further into the room. “Mother mentioned that she had overheard some things that gave her pause, and she wanted me to come speak with you.”

Heat sparks behind Castiel’s eyes, spreading down his shoulders to his fists so quickly that they almost go numb. He pulls away from Michael’s touch and turns to glare at Naomi, who is still refusing to look at him. “You _did_ overhear my conversation with Anna,” Castiel accuses.

“ _You_ told me you weren’t gay,” Naomi counters primly. “Don’t think I don’t know who you’ve been spending your time with the last few days.”

“Castiel,” and as annoying as that patronizing tone was a few years ago, it’s worse now that Castiel is an adult heading off to college, now that he’s the same height as Michael. “I’m going to need you to be completely honest with us so that we can handle this situation properly.”

“ _I_ am not a ‘situation’ to be ‘handled!’” Castiel snaps, taking a few more steps back from Michael. “How is this even any of your business?”

The more Michael smiles, the more Castiel wants to knock his teeth out. “Are you, or are you not, dating your friend Dean Winchester?”

There’s warmth in Castiel’s cheeks, and he hopes it comes across as anger instead of embarrassment. “Not your _business_ , Michael!”

“Castiel.” Naomi’s tone is sharp and demanding, and Castiel has to fight the instinct to lower his head in deference. She seems to realize this, her expression softening as she finally meets Castiel’s eyes. “If you’re afraid of our reaction, you shouldn’t be. We will love you no matter what.”

Castiel blinks at her, confused, but Naomi doesn’t say more. Michael steps in, putting his hand back on Castiel’s shoulder, and laughing softly when Castiel jumps. “That’s true. You are my brother regardless of who you love, and that will never change.”

Honestly, Castiel isn’t sure what to do with this onslaught of affection and support from his family. And when he realizes that _this_ is what he considers affection from his own flesh and blood, then it’s really no wonder he’s so drawn to Dean.

“But we still have an issue,” Michael continues. “If you _are_ in a relationship with Dean, then we need to discuss how to handle this in relation to our uncle’s brand.”

“What?”

“ _Are_ you in a relationship with Dean?”

Castiel frowns and lowers his head. “No.”

“Don’t lie, Castiel,” Naomi barks. “Respect me enough to-”

“I’m not lying!” Castiel snaps back. “It’s… it’s complicated, but Dean is _not_ my boyfriend.”

Michael regards him with narrowed eyes, but Castiel keeps his back straight and his chin held high, refusing to break under this sort of pressure. Naomi sighs, however, and rises to her feet, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “I’m neither blind nor deaf, Castiel. I heard Anna say that you slept with Dean-”

“That’s not true!”

“Do _not_ interrupt me.” Naomi lifts her chin, tightening her jaw. “The issue at hand is not what you have or haven’t done. Why would Anna say such a thing unless she had reason to believe it could be true? That’s all I want you to say. Tell me the truth.”

Castiel rubs his hands over his face and shakes his head. “It is the truth. We’re not boyfriends. We haven’t slept together. I do…” he swallows and lowers his hands, and the words hurt as they leave his throat and enter the air: “I do have feelings for Dean. As he does for me. But like I said. It’s complicated.”

The silence that comes after this admission is heavy. Castiel can’t lift his head, can’t move his hands, is genuinely afraid and frozen in this moment. Michael’s hand moves to the back of his neck, and Castiel attempts to shake him off, but then Michael is gently pulling Castiel’s hands away from his face, and it’s surprising to realize that his brother’s expression has faded into concern.

“Hey. It’s okay,” Michael says softly. “I meant what I said. You’re my little brother no matter what.”

Castiel blinks at him. Michael smiles.

“We still have a problem though,” Michael continues. “It _cannot_ get out that Uncle Zach has a gay nephew.”

Castiel scowls, but keeps his mouth shut. There’s no point in arguing with them about the subtleties of sexuality, especially when he’s not even sure what to label himself. “No one’s going to care about _me_. We don’t even have the same last name.”

“You’ve been on his show once or twice,” Michael reminds him, and Castiel rolls his eyes.

“In a crowd of _dozens_ of relatives. It’s not like I’m his son.”

“This is still something we need to get ahead of,” Naomi chimes in. “It has the potential to become a problem, and we need to know how to handle it if it does.”

“If Castiel and Dean aren’t actually in a relationship, then maybe we don’t have to worry about it. Feelings can change, we can set him up with someone else, maybe Bela, until it all goes away-”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Castiel cuts in. Michael raises his eyebrows, as if he’d forgotten Castiel was still present. “My feelings for Dean aren’t going to just _go away_ , and I have absolutely _no_ interest in Bela.”

“Maybe if you just _tried_ -”

“You think I haven’t?!”  Castiel is a little shocked by the pitch of his voice when it breaks, but he’s so angry about this that he just clears his throat and continues, “I knew this would happen, I knew you’d be like this, so I _did_ try not to have feelings for Dean. That’s what dating _Meg_ was all about!”

He’s never admitted that aloud before, and guilt rumbles in his chest when he realizes what he’s said. As much as he’s come to care for her, that was always the problem at the heart of their relationship: Castiel would never really love Meg, and she was smart enough to figure out why. He had _tried_ , dammit - she deserved that much - but especially once he and Dean were back in the same space, there was no hope for it. There was just fear and longing hidden behind simpering, saccharine sentiment, designed to push Dean away.

“It’s been _years_ ,” Castiel says, softer this time. “If, after everything, after spending most of our time apart, after dating other people, if that hasn’t kept me from falling for Dean, how could you possibly think I could just turn it off?”

Michael has the decency to look sympathetic, but Castiel can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “I know right now it seems like Dean is the end-all be-all for you-”

“You don’t know _shit_.”

“ -but unfortunately this is the best we can do.” Michael pretends he never heard Castiel’s outburst, so Castiel swallows everything else he wants to say. There’s no point if he won’t be heard. “You don’t have to _actually_ date Bela. Just let us give the story out, and then you can be discreet with Dean. How does that sound?”

Like something cheap and tawdry. Like Castiel should be ashamed of Dean. Castiel’s heart twists when he thinks about how Dean would take this news, how he would accept it as inevitable and paint a smile on for Castiel’s sake, to hide how it eats away at him. Castiel just can’t do that to Dean.

And things have been so _good_ lately. Castiel had been so afraid of having this, but now that he’s giving Dean a chance, he doesn’t want to lose all this… _possibility_. If they really can move on from everything that’s happened before, if he can forgive Dean his sins and if Dean keeps patiently reeling Castiel back in when he tries to push them apart, then maybe someday they could have something beautiful. It’s unfair to ask them to hide it all, to temper it down, just because of Castiel’s famous relative.

“I can’t do that,” Castiel says quietly, squaring his shoulders and standing up straight. “I won’t do that. Bela doesn’t deserve it, and Dean doesn’t deserve it, so no.”

Michael frowns, his eyes sweeping up Castiel’s body, taking in his silent stance. “Then maybe it would be best if we sent you somewhere else until school starts. Cutting ties completely might be the best answer.”

“You can’t _do_ that!” Castiel roars, horrified. “I’m your _brother_ , what is your _problem_ -”

“I’m older than you, _and_ I’m in charge of protecting Uncle’s interests, I have to do what’s best for this family-”

“What about what’s best for _me_ , don’t you care about _me_ -”

“The world doesn’t revolve around _you_ , Castiel, there are more important things-”

“You never _listen_ , you just give _orders_ like some kind of-”

“ _Enough_!”

At some point amidst the yelling, Michael and Castiel had come nose-to-nose, fists clenched and faces red, but they both jump at their mother’s voice, and move apart easily when she steps between them.

“Michael,” she says, sharp and powerful and much more like the woman Castiel remembers from his childhood, “if you can’t handle this situation with poise and dignity, then maybe I should look into coming out of retirement.”

Michael ducks his head in shame, but Naomi has already turned to Castiel, pressing a finger into his chest. “You,” she commands, “respect your brother and don’t raise your voice to him. Even if you disagree with his ideas, there are better ways to handle it than screaming in his face. You’re not an animal, Castiel.”

Castiel blushes and lowers his head as well. He’d let his anger get the better of him, and that’s unacceptable. He knows better, he knows how to control his emotions and keep them tucked away. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry too,” Michael whispers back, and Castiel has to marvel at how his mother managed to get two grown men to grovel like toddlers on the playground.

“Good,” says Naomi. “Now, back to the issue at hand.” Michael opens his mouth to speak, but quickly snaps it shut when Naomi raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ve made a decision.”

Castiel’s heart drops so quickly it makes him nauseous. She’ll force him to leave. She’ll send him off to stay with Uncle for a while, change his phone number or maybe just take the phone away altogether, and he’ll never-

“I’m not going to lose any more children because of this business.”

… _What?_

Naomi closes her eyes and tucks a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, her pearl earring glinting in the lamp light. “Close your mouth, Michael,” she chastises absently, and Michael catches his dropped jaw, immediately straightening his spine and lifting his chin in an attempt at control. “You heard what I said. It’s not right, the way I let my brother’s brand take over my life.” She sighs, her own carefully crafted expression relaxing, showing the tired lines around her lips and eyes. “I should have retired when Luke left. I finally decided to do so when Gabriel threatened to leave. Seeing the way Luke looked at me when he came back…” Her eyes open, gazing down at her hands, which turn over to expose the palms to the light. Castiel can’t remember the last time he saw his mother look this human. “Castiel looked at me the same way when I arrived here,” Naomi continues softly. “My children don’t trust me. And why should they?”

She clenches her hands into fists and lifts her head, lips tight and eyes shining. “Michael, my absence forced you to grow up too soon, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry it hurt your relationships with your siblings, and I’m sorry you felt obligated to give up on singing to pursue my dreams instead of your own.”

Castiel chances a glance at his brother, and is surprised by how young Michael looks right now. He’s only twenty-four, but between the parental role and the six year age difference, Castiel never realized that his oldest brother isn’t quite an adult yet. Not really. He’s good at maintaining distance and being aloof and poised, but any Milton child could claim that. Now, Michael’s eyes are wide and hopeful, his stance hunched and defensive, and this contradiction humanizes him more than anything. It tears away the suit and tie and business speak and reveals Castiel’s cool big brother, the one with the voice like an angel, even if it took a while to convince him that voice was worth sharing.

Fleetingly, Castiel thinks of Dean.

But Naomi is still speaking. This must be something she’s been holding in for a while. “Apologies are overdue to Lucifer and Gabriel too, and I can only hope I’m not too late for Anna. But Castiel,” she turns to look at him, that soft, concerned look in her eyes, “I won’t lie to you. I’m not sure how I feel about Dean, and if you are going to pursue an…” She pauses, searching for the right phrase: “an alternative lifestyle, then I wish you would at least choose someone more fitting to your station.”

Castiel frowns, anger starting to warm at the back of his neck, but Naomi raises a finger to silence him.

“That being said, if Dean makes you happy, then I want you to have that.”

Michael meets Castiel’s eyes from behind their mother’s back, and he looks just as bewildered as Castiel feels. Castiel wants to believe that Naomi has actually changed, but he can’t make the connection between the woman who sneered at the holes in Dean’s jeans, and the one standing in front of him. Is it really as simple as a change of heart? Is a change of heart really that simple?

Naomi tilts her head ever-so-slightly, then smiles. “Castiel, why don’t you give Michael and I a little time to discuss this? Maybe go for a run.”

“Um,” Castiel croaks, “okay.”

He heads to his room, quickly changing into a t-shirt and running shorts. When he re-emerges, Michael and Naomi are having a quiet conversation on the couch, and Michael gives him a little wave as he passes them.

This is too much. It’s too weird. A run actually will do him some good, because he’s so worked up that he can’t stop moving. He can’t believe _any_ of that actually happened.

While stuck in the elevator, he sends a text to Anna, asking where she is.

**From: Anna**   
**To: Castiel**   
**9:14pm**

**Out with Jo & Charlie, why?**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Anna**   
**9:15pm**

**Michael’s here. I’m going for a run at the beach.**

**From: Anna**   
**To: Castiel**   
**9:15pm**

**Are you okay? Should I come back? What’s going on?**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Anna**   
**9:16pm**

**Don’t worry. It’s weird but maybe not bad weird. I’ll explain later.**

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he steps out into the cool evening air, but he ignores it, taking off through the parking lot at top speed. His ears are ringing and his skin is thrumming and his mind is whirling and it’s easy to shut it all off as he focuses on the slap of his shoes on the sidewalk and trying to regulate his breathing. The sun is below the horizon now, just a small glow casting pink and purple into the skyline while a few heavy clouds hang in the distance.

He doesn’t want to think about what just happened. He’s too afraid it’s a trick, something done to lower his defenses, and even if Naomi is just trying to give him Dean in order to get something else, Castiel doesn’t want to be used that way. He doesn’t want Dean to be part of the games they play.

It’s too soon for him to be having trouble breathing, but the panic must be getting to him, because he’s taking deep, gulping breaths but his lungs are still burning, so he turns towards the boardwalk, towards the beach. He only slows down when he hits the sand, pausing to take his shoes and socks off, then all but collapses on the shore, right where the surf can rise up and touch his aching feet.

He buries his face in his hands and wonders if maybe Naomi was telling the truth. Maybe she really is trying to make amends. But there’s danger in that kind of hope- it’s the same struggle Castiel has been going through with Dean. Trusting someone who has broken that trust in the past is difficult. However good things have been, Castiel’s not even sure he trusts Dean yet, and Naomi asking for the same forgiveness is just too much.

Castiel will not be played for a fool. He has _some_ dignity, and he’s capable of protecting himself. He just needs a little distance to put the walls back up and re-examine the evidence before he decides who can and can’t be trusted.

He takes a few slow, deep breaths before lifting his head and staring out at the horizon. It’ll be difficult to distance himself from Naomi and Michael, the way he does with Dean. He can’t kick his mother out of a hotel room she’s paying for, and while he might get away with locking himself in that tiny bedroom, he won’t be able to do it for long. How is he supposed to-

“There you are.”

Castiel jumps, twisting around to see Dean smiling gently down at him. Dean holds both hands up in a gesture of peace before sitting down next to Castiel and slipping his sandals off. “Anna texted me,” Dean says as a way of explanation. “She seemed worried.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel says automatically. Dean frowns and shakes his head.

“Don’t look fine.”

Castiel huffs softly, rolling his eyes. “No offense, but I kind of want to be alone right now.”

“Okay,” Dean says cheerfully, wiggling his toes as the surf bubbles up around him. “I’ll just hang out here. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I’m already out so I’m not gonna go all the way back home.”

“Fine,” Castiel says, resting his chin on his knees. The horizon has disappeared, the ocean the same deep purple as the sky, and Castiel stares into the void, trying to pick up his train of thought one more time.

But it’s harder with Dean here. He’s a warm, unavoidable presence at Castiel’s side, constant and grounding. If his soft breathing is distracting, his perfect profile is even more so. He’s clearly content just to be near Castiel, and it’s disconcerting that Castiel doesn’t feel the same way. Dean is beautiful and kind, but that beauty and kindness is just annoying right now. Castiel doesn’t want to talk and he doesn’t want to be distracted. He wants to sink into his head and pick apart every detail of what happened with Michael and his mother until he fully understands it.

Maybe there’s something wrong with Castiel, that he doesn’t want the comfort Dean is offering. That idea plucks a note in his heart that rings in his ears, reminding him of that detached portrait Dean painted.

Castiel drops his head to Dean’s shoulder, aggressively enough that Dean makes a little noise of surprise before turning to study him. “You okay there?”

“I’m not shutting you out to be mean,” Castiel mumbles.

“I know.”

“This is just how I handle things.”

“By running away?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, lifting his head to glare at Dean. “ _No_. I’m…” He pauses, flustered, before coming up with, “I need to look at all the little threads and figure out what they do and how they’re important before putting the big picture back together again.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Is that what you were doing after you found out about Aaron?”

No, he wallowed in anger, self-pity and fear before being guilted into calling Dean and allowing himself to fall into that blissful infatuation all over again, where he can pretend to forget about Aaron and all the rest of their baggage. But Castiel keeps his face neutral, and nods. Dean juts his lower lip out, a thoughtful expression on his face. “That’s interesting. I always thought of you as a big picture person, while I’m the one who tunnel visions on one or two details.”

“The big picture is made of tiny details,” Castiel says. “Sometimes I can’t make sense of the big picture, so I have to look closer to understand.”

Dean studies him for a moment longer, then nods. “What big picture happened tonight?”

Castiel sighs, turning back to the ocean. He really doesn’t want to talk about this, but Dean’s gesture is kind and Castiel is tired of rejecting that kindness.

“My mother knows about us,” Castiel says flatly. “She overheard me talking to Anna about our date, and she called Michael to deal with the issue.”

Dean says nothing, but his arm does wrap itself around Castiel’s shoulder, drawing him closer. Despite himself, Castiel appreciates this, and continues speaking: “They don’t care that you’re a boy, on a personal level, but my uncle’s business makes our relationship a problem that Michael needs to either solve or sweep away.”

Dean’s thumb sweeps over the back of Castiel’s neck, and Castiel finds himself adjusting against Dean’s side, trying to find comfort in how they fit together. He rests his forehead against Dean’s temple, enjoying the warmth of Dean’s skin and the perfect view of his freckles and his eyes. “I fought with them about it,” Castiel mumbles.

“Did you?” There’s amusement and affection in Dean’s voice, as he closes his eyes and continues rubbing Castiel’s neck. “What did they say?”

“Mother defended me,” Castiel says. Dean’s thumb stops moving. “She apologized and said she just wanted me to be happy.” He sighs, lowering his head to Dean’s neck. “I don’t know if she means it or if she’s just trying to bribe me into doing something else.”

“What else does she want from you?” Dean asks quietly, moving his hand to Castiel’s hair. The attention is nice, comfortable even. Meg used to do something similar, playing with Castiel’s hair until it was a useless mess, and then laughing at him when he frowned and tried to fix it. Dean, however, alternates between massaging and gently scratching Castiel’s scalp, and it’s relaxing enough that Castiel finds himself closing his eyes, twisting to fit closer to Dean.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. “Could be anything. Convince me to go after a certain major. Take a specific roommate. Who knows?”

Dean hums, pressing his lips against Castiel’s head. “Or maybe you’re just thinking too hard. Maybe she meant it.”

“That’s a nice thought, but you don’t know her like I do.” Pause. “I like this.”

“Like what?”

Castiel squeezes Dean’s waist, leaves a kiss on his neck. “This.”

Dean chuckles, his skin vibrating against Castiel’s lips. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.” He’s surprised by his own surprise, honestly; he had liked cuddling with Meg, as long as she wasn’t messing with his hair or trying to get in his pants. Dean is doing neither, just offering a little comfort, and Castiel has always liked how physical Dean and his friends are. He had only resisted this because he is trying to resist Dean, but he is failing because Dean is his weakness. If Naomi has realized that, if she’s using it against him…

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and grips at Dean’s t-shirt, feeling a sudden rush of childish stubbornness. Dean is _his_. Regardless of everything else, of Aaron, of Lisa, of the years-old baggage they carry, Castiel _wants_ Dean. He _wants_ to be with him, and moments like this make it difficult to remind himself that there is more to this situation than just Dean and Castiel and the feelings they have for each other. Moments like this make it seem simple.

Nothing is ever that simple.

“We should talk,” Castiel says. Dean’s hand stills briefly, then trails over Castiel’s shoulder blade, down to the small of his back.

“Okay. What about?”

“Us. Our relationship.”

Dean clears his throat. Castiel is glad they’re not looking at each other. “What about it?”

“How we define it, for starters.” Castiel opens his eyes, looking out over the ocean even as he continues to cling to Dean’s waist. “I keep telling people we’re not dating, but then we go on dates and we do things like this, and…” He trails off, unsure of where to go next.

Luckily, Dean has an idea: “Maybe we are dating. Maybe you’re my boyfriend.”

He makes it sound so simple that Castiel almost says okay. Because that’s the easy way. They can call themselves ‘boyfriends’ and hold hands and go to the movies and exchange kisses and all the other stuff they already do, only now it’s ‘official’ and apparently means something more. More _what_ , Castiel doesn’t know. Just that it seems important and scary.

“I want you to be my boyfriend,” Dean continues, his fingers clutching at Castiel’s shirt. “If that’s what you want, or I can wait…”

“You couldn’t wait before,” Castiel says, his voice low and blank. He doesn’t move away from Dean’s touch, which is how he feels tension spreading from Dean’s chest and shoulder to his arm and fingers, which still their movements, drawing Castiel’s shirt tight across his chest.

“That was different,” Dean says softly. “That wasn’t a real relationship or anything, and it won’t happen again.”

Finally, Castiel finds the strength to sit up, to pull his arms away and break Dean’s grip. A stricken look crosses Dean’s face, but it’s gone before Castiel can really focus on it, replaced by carefully crafted concern and curiosity.

“I don’t want to force us into something we’re not ready for,” says Castiel. “Pushing this could ruin it.”

Dean purses his lips, but whatever is on his mind, he opts not to share. “Then what is there to talk about?” he asks instead, unable to prevent a tinge of annoyance from leaking out. “You don’t want me, fine, all you gotta do is say so.”

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ you,” Castiel counters, rubbing his hands over his face. “I feel like we’re speaking different languages, and I don’t know how to make you understand.”

“You want to be with me and I want to be with you.” Dean shrugs. “What’s to understand?”

“It’s not that simple, Dean.”

“Yes, it is!” Dean reaches over and takes Castiel’s hand, staring at his fingers as if he can’t bear to meet Castiel’s eyes. “If you’re not ready or whatever, then all you have to do is tell me and I’ll wait. I’ll hang out here until you come around, that’s totally cool.”

“No, it’s not-”

“Cas, damn it.” Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Stop worrying about everything else and look at _our_ little details for a second. Look at _us. Please._ ”

But Castiel doesn’t understand what he’s talking about. Maybe they are speaking different languages, because when Castiel tries to look at all the little details about his relationship with Dean, he just comes up with bad memories and mistakes. It’s like the whole thing crumbles in his hands, and the big picture doesn’t make him feel much better. Even if he tries to think of things Dean has done right - and there are plenty of those moments too, he knows it - they’re colored by the pain and fear of the rest. It’s hard to reassure himself that the Dean who takes him to nice restaurants and paints beautiful murals is the real Dean when he doesn’t want to think that _that_ Dean is the same Dean who spent several months having sex with someone else, or the same Dean who can become so violent and cruel with a little liquor in his system.

So what ‘us’ is Dean talking about? What is Castiel not seeing?

His confusion must show, because Dean’s expression is slowly falling, hope fading into defeat, and Castiel hates it. He hates how confused he is, that he can’t just power through this, that he keeps pushing Dean away.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispers. Dean lowers his head and rubs his eyes. “Dean, I’m just…”

“I know.” Dean laughs, but the sound is hollow, muffled by his hand. “I know. I fucked up. This is all my fault.”

“No, that’s not… not entirely, just…”

“Cas.” He’s smiling now, but Castiel wishes he wasn’t. That smile is familiar in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat, because he hasn’t seen Dean look like that since his time with Alastair. It’s an awful, painful thing that Dean puts on when he’s trying to convince everyone that he’s fine, and Castiel’s chest seizes when he realizes that he’s the one who put it there. “It’s cool. Don’t worry about me.”

“Dean.”

“Seriously, I get it, I don’t want to push you if this isn’t what you want.”

“It _is_ what I want!” Castiel snaps, digging his fingers into the sand by his hips, just for something to hold on to. “I just don’t want it like _this_!”

Dean stares at him, his lips parted. “What do you mean?”

But Castiel doesn’t know. The words just came out, and now that he’s said them, he realizes they’re true… but it’s just another thing he needs to sort through on his own. If he tries to talk about it now, he can’t be sure that he won’t say something wrong, something that will just drive them further apart.

The dates have been wonderful, like a dream, but Castiel doesn’t want a dream. He doesn’t want the nightmare of Dean’s depression and alcoholism. He doesn’t want this to be so forced and he doesn’t want to be so afraid and he doesn’t want to feel like his affection for Dean is some sort of weakness that can be used against him.

But he doesn’t know how to fix this, and he doesn’t have a clue what will still be there if they do manage to figure it out.

Dean smiles, because that’s what Dean does. Don’t think Castiel doesn’t notice how Dean isn’t touching him anymore, however. “Listen,” Dean says, soft like he’s soothing a wild animal, “I’m sorry I tried to push you. I’ll wait as long as you need. Until you finish school, if I have to, and I won’t go around with anyone else in the meantime. I swear.” He holds up a hand when Castiel opens his mouth to protest, and continues, “There’s not much else for me, y’know? I’m gonna work at Bobby’s and now that I’m eighteen Ellen’s gonna let me help out at the bar so I can take care of Mom and Sammy. Most of my friends are going to college in a couple weeks, and Sam and Jo will be gone before I know it too. Who knows if they’ll ever come back? But you…” Dean’s smile stretches into something a little more genuine as he leans closer into Castiel’s space, still without touching him. “You keep coming back. No matter what. I keep expecting you to get bored or find someone better or whatever, and it’s like a miracle every time you come back and smile at me again.”

Castiel can’t take it anymore. Dean’s eyes are shining, and his lower lip is trembling even as he smiles and Castiel reaches over to cup his jaw, just to touch him, to give him _something_ to hold on to. And Dean closes his eyes and gives up a little laugh.

“I don’t deserve you. I keep fucking up but you keep coming back and it just makes everything seem worthwhile. Like I can keep going through the day as long as you still want to talk to me and touch me and see my paintings.”

Dean places his hands over Castiel’s for a brief second, then reaches over to grip Castiel’s neck, pulling him close enough that their foreheads touch. He opens his eyes, damp lashes framing that perfect summer green, and Castiel’s breathing picks up in anticipation.

“However long you need,” Dean says softly, “I’ll wait for you.”

Now it’s Castiel who has to close his eyes, because he can’t handle the way Dean is looking at him. “Why?” he demands, and Dean releases his neck to gently grab his wrists before he answers:

“I need you.”

Oh _no_.

Overwhelmed, Castiel pulls Dean in for a kiss, if only to keep him from talking. Dean flails a little in surprise, but soon catches himself and happily returns the kiss, resting one hand on Castiel’s waist. He practically melts into Castiel’s touch, humming like this is all he wants in the world. And Castiel’s heart is pounding, but it’s not affection or arousal. It’s fear.

Castiel is afraid of _so many things_. He’s afraid of having Dean. Afraid of losing him. Of hurting him, or being hurt by him. Of getting too close, and not being able to be close enough. Castiel wants Dean but he has no idea what he wants from him, and that makes him afraid as well. He’s so conflicted by Dean, and no matter how much time he spends on his own, he can’t sort this out. It’s too much. And all of this on top of what’s going on with his mother and Michael, and Castiel feels like he’s about to burst from his own overwhelming confusion.

The questions and the fear and the distrust _just never stop_ , and Castiel doesn’t know what else to do.

He pulls away from Dean suddenly enough that Dean grunts and fumbles forward, blinking blearily at Castiel, who stares back for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispers, then jumps to his feet.

“Cas?” says Dean, but Castiel just holds his hands up before spinning on his heel and taking off for the boardwalk. He’s slower in the sand, and Dean is still yelling after him, but once he gets on solid ground he’ll be too fast for Dean to keep up. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just has to get _away_. He needs to be _alone_ before he explodes.

He needs time and distance to figure everything out. Then he can talk to his family, and he can talk to Dean, and then maybe things will be better.

Just put the world on hold for a little while. Castiel needs a chance to _breathe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry for how long this took! A lot has been going on at work that really stresses me out, and it was difficult to focus on the story for more than a couple sentences at a time. However! Some changes might be happening soon so hopefully that won't last too much longer. 
> 
> I feel seriously awful about how long this took and how short this update is considering how long it took, but I hope this helps to convince people that I'm not giving up on this story. If it can continue despite all the crap I've been dealing with, then it might slow down but it's not going to stop. I especially feel bad because I know the last update caused a little controversy. This one probably just makes that worse, haha, but I'm still happy to answer questions or address concerns in comments or in asks at [my tumblr](http://vintagenoise.co.vu)! So just let me know! 
> 
> And yes, the number of chapters has changed - I opted to do this because I ended up cutting this chapter short and I think re-organizing for slightly shorter chapters will help with both update times and my stress levels, lol. Don't worry, the chapters will still be a decent length, they'll just hopefully arrive a little faster this way. 
> 
> If you're looking for a little more, I put together [an art tag](http://vintagenoise.co.vu/tagged/beachverse-art) for the story on my tumblr, so the art is all in one place to enjoy :) (as of now, the first image is nsfw so please click carefully!). Or, for a little while a lovely anon was sending me character questions about the boys and the story that I actually really loved so you can find those in [my beachverse tag](http://vintagenoise.co.vu/tagged/beachverse), which is also a great place to check for updates and teasers. It's gotten a lot more diverse lately, haha, so give it a look, if you're interested! 
> 
> You guys are my saving grace, by the way! I want you to know that! There were a couple days a ways back where I was just incapable of even looking at this file without getting a headache, but I ended up going back and re-reading all the beautiful, sweet comments you guys leave and it not only got me back on the writing wagon, but I was able to soldier through work with a smile again. So thank you, seriously! Words can't express what your kindness means to me, so I hope sharing this story is thanks enough!


	4. A Love Song In My Own Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love and gratitude to [castielflowercrowns](http://castielflowercrowns.tumblr.com) for continuing to beta this monster of a fic!! And to those of you who are still powering through this with me and kept pestering for updates: I love you! :) Hope this makes up for the last installment's mess!

_Best friends, ex-friends to the end_   
_Better off as lovers, but not the other way around_   
_Racing through the city, windows down_   
_In the back of yellow-checkered cars_   
_You’re wrong_   
_Are we all wrong?_

“ **Bang the Doldrums** ,” Fall Out Boy

**June 23rd, 2008**

Castiel needs more sympathetic friends.

Charlie, Jo, and Pam are steadfastly ignoring him now, and it turns out it’s not a lot of fun being on the receiving end of a cold shoulder. That’s probably exactly the point they’re trying to make, but Castiel is too immersed in his own guilt and confusion and nervousness to care.

He knows that running off and leaving Dean like that was cruel. He knows that, regardless of the ways Dean has screwed up in the past, he doesn’t deserve to be left alone without answers after all but offering his heart on a silver platter. Castiel is well-aware that he has fucked this up royally, and that Dean is probably suffering for it.

But Castiel still doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t call.

Call it deja-vu.

It’s probably better this way. Everything between them is so fucked up and tainted at this point that it may never be repaired, and dragging it on for too much longer would just make everything worse somehow.

And yet Castiel remembers coming home that night to find Naomi waiting for him, a small, hopeful smile on her face as she informed him that he was free to date Dean for the time being, while Michael does a little market research to see if Uncle Zach could benefit from a kinder, more progressive sort of evangelizing. And Castiel’s had chest _ached_. He felt hollowed out and stuffed with barbed wire, a constant poking and prodding, a reminder of how he had so vehemently defended his desire to be with Dean, only to turn around and run as soon as Dean confirmed that he wanted the same thing.

Naomi knows something is off, but she hasn’t asked about it yet, and for that, Castiel is grateful. Anna is ignoring him for the most part, so Jo probably filled her in on what happened. Michael has his own room, but is trying to spend more time with his family while he’s here, and since he seems cheerfully unaware of Castiel’s problems, he’s the one Castiel has chosen to hang around with.

They’re out waiting for a tennis court to free up, and Michael is actually giving Castiel some very sound advice about college, when Bela appears at Castiel’s side. Michael stops mid-sentence, blinking at her as she smiles sweetly up at him.

“Can I borrow your brother?” she asks, her voice almost musical. “I’ll bring him right back.”

“Okay,” says Michael, his eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. “We’re waiting for a court, though, so...”

“Just a few minutes,” Bela promises, slipping an arm through Castiel’s and dragging him back towards the hotel.

“So _someone_ is still speaking to me,” Castiel observes, stumbling along behind her. Bela scoffs and keeps walking without looking back at him.

“You’re lucky I’m _your_ friend and not Dean’s,” she says. “If Jo had her way, everyone would be shutting you out, and you’d deserve every minute of it.” She stops walking and when Castiel accidentally runs in to her, she uses the leverage to push him back a few feet, enough that he can get the full force of her glare. “But I don’t care for Dean and I don’t think it’s a good idea to punish you without even telling you what’s going on.”

Castiel sighs and gestures for her to go on, but her glare only intensifies at his well-practiced nonchalance.

“Don’t make me defend Dean,” she says, brandishing a finger in his direction. “When the girls told me what he did with that other boy, I defended your actions. You have every right to be angry at him for that, and I was mad at them for being so blinded by poor ickle Dean that they couldn’t see your point of view. But!” She presses her fingernail into his chest, and he takes a step backwards at the pressure. “Protecting yourself only goes so far before it becomes cruelty, and what you did to that boy the other night was _cruel_ , Castiel Milton.”

Castiel puts his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground, unsure of how to respond. He appreciates Bela’s support, and a small part of him appreciates her willingness to call him out at the same time. That’s what good friends are supposed to do, right?

Bela huffs and puts her hands on her hips once she realizes Castiel isn’t going to speak. “Jo says he’s a wreck.”

_Fuck_.

“I haven’t seen him myself, but the girls are all spitting mad at you, so I suppose she’s telling the truth.”

Castiel tightens his jaw and stubbornly keeps his eyes on the grass. The wind is up, whistling past his ears and through his hair, and Bela’s shoes fidget back and forth as she waits for him to respond.

But what can he say? Absolutely none of this is new or surprising information. Considering Dean has explicitly told him that he needs them to talk about their problems, Castiel has no excuse for his actions. There’s a choking sensation at the thought that he hurt Dean so badly, but all he can do is take a deep breath and turn to watch the tennis courts instead of Bela’s face. Michael is sending curious glances in their direction, so Bela’s body language must make it clear that an argument is going on.

“You’re a selfish prick,” Bela snaps when Castiel still doesn’t respond. “I expected better of you. Clearly, you and Dean are crazy in love with one another, but you do all this bullshit instead of just kissing and being happy and I don’t understand _why_!”

Castiel feels his cheeks turn pink as he turns to look at Bela, and is surprised to see that her own face has taken on a ruddy tone in her anger. “Why does this mean so much to you?” he asks.

She practically growls, tossing her hair in the wind. “ _That’s_ all you have to say?” she accuses. “ _That’s_ what you finally respond to?”

“I thought you didn’t like Dean.”

“It’s not _about_ Dean, and it’s not about _you_.” Bela tightens her lips briefly and shakes her head. Her hair is wild in the wind, curls snapping around her face. “It’s not fair. You both have these feelings for each other and you know how the other feels, but you keep fucking it up like true arseholes.” She blinks rapidly, lifting her chin. “I’m not as lucky as you, remember? I see him sleeping around and you running away and I just want to strangle you both because you don’t know how _easy_ you have it! You don’t know how hard it is for the rest of us who have to work just to be _noticed_ by the one they want!”

Oh. That makes more sense. Castiel fidgets with his hands, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You know she’s single now, right?” he offers. Bela’s eyes narrow as she exhales through her nose.

“Well aware of that, yes,” she says sharply. “And not interested in being a rebound, thanks.”

“I just thought-”

“We’re done talking about me, Castiel, don’t get distracted.” She waves her hand in the air, then uses it to try and get her hair under control. “You need to figure your shit out, or let that boy go.”

“I’m not the only offender here-”

“Get off your goddamn high horse, Castiel!” Bela yells, making Castiel cringe. He glances over his shoulder, and Michael has taken a few steps towards them, now openly watching their conversation. Castiel raises his hands in defense as he turns back to his friend, but Bela continues before he can speak: “You’re both shitheads, and you deserve each other, so figure it out or move on. And!” She takes a step back but raises another finger to Castiel’s chest, clearly intent on having the last word. “You’re lucky you’re hearing this from me and not that southern hick they’ve all been hanging out with.”

Castiel frowns in confusion. “Benny?”

“Yes, that one. He’s out for your head right now, and frankly, I don’t know why I’m warning you. Maybe it’d do you some good.”

With that, she purses her lips and nods before turning on her heel and walking away without another word. Michael approaches as soon as she’s gone, nudging Castiel with an elbow.

“What was that about?”

Castiel glances at his brother. He wonders, briefly, if he could actually share this story with Michael, if his oldest brother could give him some real advice. Michael seems to want to reconnect, after all.

But this is a complicated situation, and Castiel isn’t sure he’s capable of telling the story yet. Especially not to someone who was, only a few nights ago, attempting to convince him to leave Dean behind for the sake of the family business.

So Castiel sighs. “Can we just play tennis?”

Michael blinks, something that’s almost hurt appearing in his eyes, but he nods slowly, and actually puts an arm around Castiel’s shoulder as they walk back to the courts.

**June 26th, 2008**

There’s something seriously, deeply wrong with Castiel.

He’s been bitter for a long time about his family and how they don’t show any interest in him, but now that Naomi and Michael both seem to have decided to make up for their mistakes, Castiel is coldly rejecting their attempts to be there for him.

Michael keeps inviting him to lunch and trying to impart wisdom on him, be it about school or love or life in general, and at first it was nice, but now Castiel is just annoyed by his blathering on and on and on. He’s probably trying to prod Castiel into sharing why he’s been moping around the hotel instead of going out with his friends, but Castiel still isn’t interested in talking.

Not that Naomi isn’t trying her hardest to open him up too. She catches him alone whenever she can and asks about Dean and Charlie and Jo. While Castiel is impressed that she remembers the girls’ names, he doesn’t want to tell her the whole awful story of his and Dean’s courtship. It doesn’t paint him or Dean in a good light, and even though things are shitty right now, Castiel still wants his family to like Dean when they inevitably come back together.

Because that’s what they do. Like magnets. Come together, come apart.

“You can invite Dean over, if you like,” Naomi tries this time. “Michael and I would like the chance to make amends.”

Castiel would like that chance too, but it’s been so long now that he’s not sure Dean would even answer if he tried to call. And why should he? Castiel abandoned him. Castiel is a terrible friend and would make a heartless boyfriend, so he’s still leaning towards the idea that separating himself from Dean is in their best interests. At least for now.

Naomi’s lips purse ever-so-slightly at Castiel’s silence, and she taps her fingernails on the counter near his elbows. “Are you and Dean fighting?”

She asked this yesterday, and Castiel gives her the same answer he did then: “Don’t worry about it, Mother.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry about you, Castiel,” she says. “You were practically frothing at the mouth defending your right to be with him, and now you’re pouting around the hotel room all day and I haven’t heard your phone ring since that night. I’m not blind,” she snaps when he raises his eyebrows. “I notice these things.”

Castiel clenches his teeth, glaring at his mother, but she glares right back, unfazed. “I understand your distrust,” she says carefully, “but I would like to help you, if I can.”

“You can’t,” Castiel spits, stubbornly dropping his head to the countertop. Above him, Naomi sighs and he can practically see her rolling her eyes.

“Fine. Be this way.” He can hear her moving around the mini-kitchen, then heading back towards the bathroom. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

A door clicks shut. Castiel takes a deep breath, but leaves his head burrowed in his arms. The darkness is safe and silent.

At least, until summer green eyes framed by damp lashes start to swim through his mind. Then, that barbed, heavy guilt returns to his chest.

**June 28th, 2008**

Sleep doesn’t come easily these days.

It’s strange, because as much as Castiel fought to accept Dean’s physical comfort the last time they were together, there is a part of him that desperately longs to have Dean in bed with him at night. They’ve never had sex, and they haven’t shared a bed since that first summer they met, so this desire is even more out of left field.

And yet, Castiel stares at the empty half of this queen-size bed, one arm stretched out towards the untouched pillow, and wonders what it would be like to have a warm body next to him every night. To wake up and see Dean’s sun-kissed freckles first thing every morning. He remembers Dean being a bit of a cuddler in his sleep, but that’s not a surprise, all things considered.

Castiel could really go for some cuddling right now. A thought darts through his mind, that if Dean were here and offering, Castiel would probably reject him, and he can’t help the resigned sadness that sits on his chest, because it’s probably true.

Something buzzes on the nightstand behind him, and Castiel rolls over to frown at his phone. It’s after two in the morning, but the phone keeps vibrating away, so Castiel reaches for it and stares at the screen.

_Dean Winchester._

Castiel’s heart stops.

It’s the first time Dean has attempted to contact him since that night at the beach, which is unusual for him. Castiel had taken it as a sign that Dean had finally run out of patience, but now…

Suddenly, Castiel remembers a couple years ago, Dean calling him in the middle of the night, drunk and lonely and in need of a rescue. His blood runs cold at the thought that his actions could’ve driven Dean back down that path, and without another thought, Castiel hits the button. “Hello?”

Silence. But it’s not the still silence of a lost call, it’s deeper, somehow, and Castiel sits upright in bed.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

No response.

“Dean, you’re scaring me.”

Finally, a soft noise, but with the distortion, Castiel can’t tell if it’s a laugh or a sigh. No words come with it.

“Do you want to talk? I think we should talk.”

Again, that noise, but this time it’s followed by the little click that means Dean has hung up. Castiel pulls his phone away from his ear to stare at the screen, then immediately hits the call back option.

Castiel realizes how ridiculous this is as soon as the ringing starts. He wants to be with Dean, but he doesn’t. He misses Dean, but he was too proud to call. And yet he is so _weak_ for this boy that one silent phone call has him crawling back, desperate to hear one word to calm his concern.

So much for being cold and proud.

The phone keeps ringing. Castiel’s shame fades into fear.

“ _Hey, it’s Dean, you know what to do_ ,” says the voicemail, and Castiel takes a breath over the beep. He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, but eventually is unable to convince himself to hang up. Something has to give.

“Hello, Dean,” he says softly. “I… I hope you’re okay. I hope you weren’t calling for help or something, ‘cause y’know, no matter what, I’d come. Maybe you don’t know that anymore.” Castiel sighs, rubbing his temples. “I haven’t really been… I guess I mean, even if I’m angry, I’d come help you. Whatever you need. Although now you’re probably mad at me, and… and you should be.” Castiel swallows, trying to find the right words. It’s easier, somehow, to talk to this machine. “I shouldn’t have left you there. I should have told you… I should tell you. How I really feel. But it’s hard for me to trust people, and as much as I _want_ to trust you, what you did with Aaron just…”

He trails off, staring into the darkness. He’s no good at this. Dean is the one who’s been to therapy, who has all that training and knows how to say what he wants and how he feels. Castiel just has years and years of repression.

“I do want to talk to you,” Castiel mumbles finally. “I really think we should. A real talk. And you might have to help me figure out how to talk, but… I want to be with you. I want to figure this out and be happy. And if I have to… I want to start fighting for you. Okay? Like you do for me. I don’t want to run away anymore.” He’s rambling now, but he has just a few more things to say before he hangs up and tries to sleep again. “Dean, I’m sorry for running away all the time, and I-”

“ _Your message has reached its limit. If you are satisfied with your message, please press 1. If you would like to play your message back, please press 2. If you would like to delete your message and try again, please press 3._ ”

Castiel huffs, shaking his head as he drops his phone to his lap. He briefly considers choosing three and letting all of this go, but when his thumb ends up pressing one, he can’t help being a little proud of himself. Sure, this wouldn’t have happened if Dean hadn’t called, for whatever reason he chose to do so, but Castiel still managed to respond. That’s progress, isn’t it?

Now, the ball is in Dean’s court. Castiel sets his phone on the bedside table, and lays back, staring at the ceiling with a small smile on his face. Dean is better at this. They’ll have everything figured out by morning.

Except, Dean never calls.

And Castiel doesn’t sleep.

**June 30th, 2008**

After leaving that message, after actually making an effort and never getting a response, Castiel loses hope.

He’s been telling himself for days that it’s better this way, that separating from Dean is what’s best for both of them, but he only realizes now that he was saying that with a weird, underlying certainty that Dean would wait. Dean has always waited, happily welcoming Castiel back whenever Castiel decides he’s ready to wade back into the shallows.

Now that Castiel is aware that he believed in this safety net, it sickens him to think about it. He’s a genuinely _awful_ person. Assuming that Dean is pining away, waiting patiently for Castiel to get his head out of his ass, and believing that this is an okay thing for one person to do to another… it’s disgusting. _Castiel_ is disgusting. He doesn’t deserve Dean, and if Dean is done playing Castiel’s game, then Castiel can’t blame him for finally closing the door.

So, Castiel spends the next day and a half laying on the couch in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling, clutching his Blackberry to his chest. Anna pushes him aside at one point, and he recognizes Michael’s voice in the background once or twice, but generally everyone gives him a wide berth.

And his phone doesn’t ring.

Not until about 36 hours after he left that message.

At first, he ignores the buzzing on his chest. He’s gotten used to phantom vibrations by now, but not to the heaving disappointment that comes from seeing that black, empty screen. But then the buzzing comes again. And again. Castiel finally lifts his phone, squinting at the unfamiliar number, and answers.

“Hello?”

“If you don’t get your butt to our house for dinner tonight, I’m coming up there and dragging you out.”

Castiel frowns, checking the number on his screen once again before he asks, “Who is this?”

“Sam! Sam Winchester?”

Castiel blinks and sits up. “Sam? How did you-”

“I stole your number off Dean’s phone. I’m sick of him hiding out in his room all day and being an asshole whenever he comes out, and I _know_ it’s your fault because Jo told me what you did to him at the beach.”

Groaning, Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s a lot more to that story than what Jo told you, I’m sure.”

“That may be true, but you can fill me in on that when you get here.”

“Why is it so important that I come for dinner tonight?”

“Mom’s gonna be home to meet Jess. We’re kinda dating,” and Sam sounds so pleased with himself that Castiel can’t help smiling slightly. “The other night, Mom suggested that Dean should invite you, so we can make an event out of it. She called you his boyfriend, and Dean just…”

Sam trails off, but Castiel can picture it. He’s seen it before, once or twice. How Dean’s eyes go distant, like he’s staring at something no one else can see, before they go hollow and fearful, then hidden behind a hand as Dean tries to pull himself back just enough to walk away.

“He called me,” Castiel says. “The night before last. But he didn’t say anything.”

Sam hesitates before asking, “Did _you_ say anything?”

“I asked if he was okay,” Castiel answers softly. “When he hung up, I called and left a voicemail. He hasn’t responded.”

Sam hums. “Listen, Cas… he’s pretty hurt.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. And, even if Dean _did_ do something to you too, he doesn’t deserve this. So… will you come to dinner tonight? And just, talk to him, maybe?”

Castiel exhales slowly, and runs a hand through his hair. This is his chance. His heart is pounding and it feels like he can’t get enough air, and the only thing he wants to do is hang up on Sam and throw his Blackberry out the window. He has no idea how to handle this situation, especially if Dean is in such a fragile place.

But he has to try. He can’t keep playing games anymore.

He swallows and asks, “What time should I be there?”

\-----

Naomi makes him wear a tie, and gives him a stern lecture on manners as he’s on his way out the door. Castiel tries to tell her that he’s met Mary before so it doesn’t matter what he wears, but Naomi won’t hear it. Behind her, Anna is watching the scene with a smile on her face, but it’s only half malicious, and it softens as Naomi tries to tame Castiel’s hair. Naomi gives him the same soft smile just before she closes the door, and Castiel feels warm and hopeful all the way to the parking lot.

No one had asked why he was suddenly going to dinner at Dean’s house, after so many days of pouty silence. Castiel appreciates this, because he’s still not sure how to explain what changed his mind. Or even if his mind has actually changed.

The drive is short, but Castiel’s heart is beating in odd, senseless rhythms as he pulls up in front of that old green house, and he fiddles with his tie all the way up the stairs. He takes a moment to try and compose himself before knocking on the door, and in the seconds that follow, he frantically tries to decide if he would be panicked or ecstatic if Dean should be the one to answer.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to choose: Mary is the one who opens the door, dressed down in jeans and a blouse under a soft yellow apron that Castiel has seen Dean wear once or twice. Her face lights up when she sees him, immediately wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug before she guides him inside.

“I’m so happy you came!” she says, one hand on his bicep as they pass the stairs, heading for the kitchen. “You didn’t need to dress up, though, Dean should’ve-”

“My mother made me wear this,” Castiel mumbles, still twisting the tie between his fingers. “And Sam invited me.”

Mary raises an eyebrow at this last statement, then makes a soft humming noise. “Well. You do look handsome, so if your mom wanted to make an impression, she succeeded.”

Castiel has just enough time to be grateful she didn’t ask about Dean before they reach the kitchen, where the man himself is wrist-deep in shredded chicken. Sam and Jess are seated at the island, watching as Dean pulls the meat apart with careful fingers while cheerfully telling them some story about Charlie and Pam. Sam looks up first, and he smiles before he can catch himself. Jess waves at Castiel, the bangles on her wrist clanging together, and that’s what finally catches Dean’s attention.

“Who was-” Dean goes still when he sees Castiel, eyes wide and lips slack. Castiel can feel his shoulders tightening as the seconds tick on, and while Mary makes an attempt at comfort, running her hand between his shoulderblades, it’s not quite enough to draw the tension out of his muscles. Especially when Dean finally tightens his jaw and turns back to his chicken without a word. His movements are much sharper now, and Mary sighs, rubbing Castiel’s back one more time before going to stand next to her eldest.

“Sam, why don’t you and Jess take Castiel upstairs. Maybe he can help you find Grandma Deanna’s recipes?”

Sam rolls his eyes, shaking hair out of his face before slipping off his stool and gesturing for Jess and Castiel to follow.

“Mom will warm him up for you,” Sam mutters as they hit the top step. He swings around the railing, a small smile on his face, as he leads the way to a closed door, opening it and ushering Castiel and Jess inside. When he flicks the light on, the room is revealed to be a dusty, cluttered office, and Castiel realizes suddenly that he’s never been in the upstairs portion of the Winchester house. He’s hung out in Dean’s basement bedroom several times, whiled away more than a few hours in the kitchen or living room, but the upstairs has always been firmly set aside as Sam-and-Mary’s Space. And Sam makes himself right at home, flopping into the nearest chair and swiveling around with a grin. He’s all knees and elbows and teeth, but Jess smiles at him like he hung the moon, and Castiel feels a pang of loss and regret.

“Are we supposed to be looking for something?” Castiel asks, fidgeting in the doorway.

Sam snorts and shakes his head. “Grandma’s recipes are all in that bookcase over there.” He gestures vaguely towards the wall behind him, where a few sagging bookcases are situated. “Mom just wanted a few minutes alone with Dean.” His eyes follow Jess as she crosses the room to grab another chair and drag it over next to him before taking a seat in it, where they smile at one another again. “That’s okay, ‘cause I wanted a few minutes alone with you, Castiel.”

“You’re in trouble now,” Jess chimes in, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. She and Sam swivel back and forth with matching serious expressions, and Castiel chuckles to himself.

“So there’s more to this story than you abandoning my heartbroken brother on the beach?” Sam prompts.

Castiel sighs. “Did you get that version from Jo?”

“Is that not what you did?”

“Well…” Castiel runs a hand through his hair, then returns to fiddling with his tie, staring intently at the pattern between his fingers. “It’s… I don’t know about _heartbroken_ , but-”

“Oh, I do,” Sam interrupts. Jess nods sagely, still twisting her chair this way and that. “But go on. Tell me what Dean did to deserve this.”

Castiel purses his lips, staring past his tie and focusing on his shoes instead. Sam is barely fourteen, and Jess is probably around the same age. There’s a big difference in emotional maturity here, even if Castiel disregards Sam’s affection and devotion to his brother. The truth might not go over well.

But it’s not as if Castiel has gotten a lot of support on this anyway, so what the hell.

“Last year, Dean told me how he felt,” Castiel says softly, still watching the floor. “And I was afraid and confused, so I asked if we could wait and discuss it this summer. Dean decided to sleep with Aaron while he waited.” He clutches his tie between his fingers, tugging it until he feels it dig into the back of his neck. “He says we weren’t together so it’s not cheating. I still feel like it was. He’s apologized repeatedly and promised never to do it again, but I can’t get over it. It has become…” He sighs, finally dropping the tie to rub his hands over his face. “If I reference Sisyphus, do you know who that is?”

When he lifts his head, neither of them are swiveling anymore. Jess nods minutely, a response to Castiel’s question, but Sam is staring at Castiel with narrow eyes, his brow furrowed.

“Dean _cheated_ on you?” Sam asks quietly.

“Not technically,” Castiel admits, but Sam shakes his head.

“No, no, that’s stupid. That’s like…” He huffs, turning to Jess and putting his hand over her’s, and in an overly-cheerful tone, he says, “Hey, Jess, I’m crazy about you.”

Like she can read his mind, Jess chirps, “I like you too, but my Dad says I’m too young to date!”

“Oh!” Sam exaggerates a shrug. “We like each other and that’s awesome but I guess I’ll go date whoever I want until we’re older. It’s not like your feelings matter, because we’re not really dating!” He groans, releasing Jess’s hand as she laughs at him. “My brother is so stupid. I can’t believe he’d do that to you, I’m gonna put food coloring on his toothbrush.”

“He’s not wrong,” Castiel tries, but Sam flails his arms around, almost hitting Jess in the face in his exuberance. It’s a testament to either her feelings or her age that she just ducks and laughs.

“No, no, no, Castiel, don’t do this to yourself. I mean,” Sam sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. “Dean didn’t deserve that whole Cinderella moment you pulled on him, but I didn’t know what he was getting up to with Aaron either. That changes things.”

Castiel blinks at Sam, who looks earnestly back at him. The last thing he’d expected was for Sam to see his point of view. After a moment of silence, Sam sighs again.

“My brother has problems, but that doesn’t excuse him cheating on you.”

An argument is on the tip of Castiel’s tongue, a reminder that it _technically_ wasn’t cheating, but hearing Sam say it with such confidence is… it’s _validating_. All summer long, Castiel has felt guilty for being hurt by Dean’s actions, been pressured to kiss and make up even while that pain and distrust still simmers. But here’s Dean’s own brother, the one that Dean has all but sold his soul to support and protect, and he sympathizes with _Castiel_.

It’s a very strange feeling. Warm and airy and free, and Castiel smiles at Sam. “Thank you.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches up. “You’re welcome.”

Jess twists in her chair, knocking her boots against Sam’s ankles until he twitches away from her, glaring playfully. She grins and asks, “Are you still going to try and make up with Dean?”

Castiel smooths his tie down against his chest and shrugs. “I can’t promise anything, but I want to talk if he does.”

Sam’s smile stretches across his face as he stands up and claps Castiel on the shoulder. “Let’s go see if Mom’s had any luck, then.” He offers a hand to help Jess up, then once again leads the way back out into the house.

Dean and Mary’s voices are echoing in the kitchen, but Castiel can’t make out any specific words. That's probably for the best, considering the immediate silence that falls when Sam enters the kitchen, Jess in tow, and the way Dean’s back straightens when Castiel pauses in the entryway.

The kitchen smells like cilantro, tomatoes, and melted cheese. Dean’s hands are clean but clenched into tight fists. Mary looks exhausted, but she smiles and brushes a lock of hair off her forehead as Sam and Jess retake their seats at the island. “We’ve still got about thirty minutes until dinner’s ready, so how about a card game?”

Jess shrugs while Sam nods eagerly and nudges his brother. Dean frowns and pushes away from the island. “I need some air,” he announces before shoving past Castiel and heading out to the front porch, slamming the door behind him.

Castiel watches him go, absently fiddling with his fingers as he tries to decide what the best course of action is. Clearly, Dean doesn’t want him here, so a part of him wants to just leave. But Sam and Bela had both said this separation was affecting Dean, and Castiel doesn’t want to be the one who sends Dean into another downward spiral.

And, more important than anything, Castiel _misses_ Dean. It had hit him hard the other night, made worse by Dean’s strange, silent phone call, and now seeing him again just makes Castiel acutely aware of how much he misses summer green eyes and freckle-dusted skin, strong hands and sunny smiles. However big a mess they make, however bad it gets, at the center of it is Dean, glowing like a beacon, and Castiel, too in love to resist his light. That’s all it comes down to.

It can be that simple, if Castiel lets it. If they can work through the rest of it, maybe someday, that’s what it can be.

“Honey?”

Castiel blinks, dropping his hands to his sides as he turns to Mary. She looks concerned, but behind her, Jess is grinning while Sam frowns and gestures with his hands, a silent encouragement to go after Dean.

So Castiel nods quickly, and mumbles, “Excuse me,” before bolting for the front door.

Dean is sitting on the top step, staring out over the rooftops lower on the hill, and he jumps at the sound of the door opening and closing. “Leave me alone,” he says gruffly, but Castiel ignores the command, immediately folding himself into the empty space next to Dean.

They don’t speak for several moments. Dean is practically vibrating, shifting and fidgeting as he struggles to hold his silence and not look at Castiel, while Castiel sits calmly, taking in the view. They’re several yards up from the road, and the beach is visible just beyond the second row of rooftops. The night is clear, stars sparkling overhead, but the wind is starting to pick up off the ocean, and will probably bring a storm with it sometime before morning. The town spread out before them is a beautiful picture, and even with Dean being antsy, sitting next to him is comfortable. It’s not grating, the way it was last time, but Castiel doesn’t have time to wonder why.

“I wasn’t going to invite you,” Dean spits suddenly, still staring stubbornly out at the ocean. “You’ve made it pretty clear by now that you don’t want to be around me, so-”

“That’s not true,” Castiel cuts in, turning to look at Dean. “I told you, I’d always come back.”

Dean snorts unattractively. “Right. Like an obligation. Not because you really want me. That’s awesome.”

Castiel frowns, studying Dean’s expression. There are lines under his eyes and he hasn’t shaved in a day or two. An indulgent part of Castiel wants to reach out and touch his scruffy cheek, but he reins it in. “Didn’t you get my voicemail?” Castiel asks instead.

That actually gets Dean to look at him, if only briefly. “Yeah.”

“I _am_ sorry. I meant that. I knew that you wanted us to talk about things like that, but I just shut you out and ran away.” Castiel rubs a hand over his face and sighs. “That was… awful. Whatever else you’ve done in the past, you didn’t deserve that.”

Their eyes meet, and Castiel finds comfort in it. On sunny afternoons, Dean is brilliant, blinding sunshine, but here under the stars, he’s muted grays and purples and blues, his eyes dark and lonely. His freckles are almost invisible, his lips seem somehow fuller, and longing floods Castiel’s veins. He wants to pull Dean close and pet his hair and feel warm breath against his neck, maybe hold him until he falls asleep. It’s impossible to say where this comes from, but Castiel feels it so strongly that he can’t resist at least reaching over to place his hand on top of Dean’s. Dean blinks then, staring down at their hands, before slowly pulling his away.

“I can’t take any more mixed messages, Cas,” he says quietly, eyes cast downward. “Telling me you’ll always come back isn’t good enough when every other day you’re pushing me away. I need…” He pauses to clear his throat before meeting Castiel’s eyes again. “If you need space, that’s okay. If you still need to think about this, about us, then I want you to know that I meant it when I said I’d wait. But the back and forth without talking to each other… I can’t do that anymore. If I fuck up, you need to tell me what I did-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong this time,” Castiel interrupts, but he quiets when Dean holds up a hand.

“Cas, I still have no idea where we stand here, and going _days_ without speaking after I told you… what I told you,” he swallows, and Castiel starts to realize just what kind of damage he’s done here. “That doesn’t help. Coming and going all the time isn’t helping. I need _something_. I need to at least hear you say that you’re in this with me, that a relationship is what you want, even if you don’t want it right this second.”

Dean’s eyes are wide and glassy, so much earnest pleading in his expression that Castiel almost can’t stand to look at him. Dean is trying so hard to make their relationship work that even his mistakes are made in the name of pleasing Castiel, but Castiel is so caught up in his own turmoil and confusion that he never thought to make gestures in return. Even when he tries to give Dean another chance, he’s ready to pull away at a snap, leaving Dean flailing in the darkness.

Dean doesn’t know how he feels. Castiel can look at all those paintings and see how Dean sees him and _know_ , in his heart, that Dean loves him, but Dean has nothing to comfort himself with. Where Dean is expressive and artistic, Castiel is stoic and closed-off. Where Dean has made great strides, even continuing to attempt moving forward when he falls back, Castiel has done nothing but create more distance between them.

He has to step forward. He has to concede a little distance. He has to _let Dean in_.

Castiel moves his hands to cup Dean’s face, gently running his thumbs over Dean’s cheekbones. Dean blinks at him, confused, as Castiel leans over to press a soft kiss against Dean’s lips.

“I love you,” Castiel whispers.

Dean jerks back a little, his eyes wide, but he grabs Castiel’s arms almost like he’s afraid Castiel will disappear again. His lips move, but no sound comes out, so Castiel huffs and moves his hands to the back of Dean’s neck, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, his eyes on Dean’s. “That’s why I keep coming back. Even after everything that happened two years ago. I can’t-”

“Wait,” Dean chokes out, tightening his grip. “Two years ago? Are you-... Did you…?”

Castiel chuckles softly and leans back. Dean lets him go, but they still end up loosely clutching each other’s forearms, Castiel’s thumb carefully rubbing over Dean’s skin. “I knew I had feelings for you by the time I got back to Sileas in 2006. I knew it was love when I kissed you at the Panic! at the Disco concert.”

“You’ve known that long?” The words come out in a rush of air, like Dean can’t process this information. “Since the goddamn concert? Why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

“You were with _Lisa_ ,” Castiel says with a roll of his eyes. “And you’d never shown an interest in guys, outside of kissing me a few times.” Dean pulls his arms free of Castiel’s grip to gesture silently, as if that should have been clue enough, which actually makes Castiel frown. “Don’t be like that. _You_ kept saying those kisses didn’t mean anything.”

Dean drops his arms and purses his lips in thought. Castiel waits patiently through the silence, watching Dean’s expression change as he tries to decide where to go next, how to handle yet another apology.

That’s what he expects. Another ‘I’m sorry,’ wrapped up in all the ways Dean plans to fix things and be better from now on, just like he learned in therapy. He doesn’t expect Dean to suddenly grab his wrist and say, “That first kiss wasn’t an accident.”

Castiel blinks at him. “What?”

“That first time I kissed you, in the woods? I’d wanted to do that for a while, and between the vodka, and you showing up with fucking _Bela_ , I figured, what the hell? Can’t hurt to try.”

This changes _everything_. There was always a part of Castiel that liked to argue that Dean wouldn’t try to kiss him if he didn’t want to, but that little voice was always much too quiet in comparison to Dean himself repeatedly saying it didn’t matter-

Wait.

“Are we actually having this conversation?” Castiel asks, fighting the urge to smile.

Dean furrows his brow. “What conversation?”

“Three years ago, you told me that I got to decide whether or not your kiss meant enough for me to consider it my first. I asked if you thought the kiss was meaningful, and you said to ask again in a couple years…”

“Shit,” Dean chuckles, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. “Well, I think you know the answer to that question.”

“You should say it anyway.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he ends up cupping both of Castiel’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over Castiel’s knuckles. Warmth spreads from Castiel’s ears and neck to the tips of his fingers and swoops through his belly as he smiles at the sight.

“That first kiss meant everything,” Dean says softly. “I should’ve known back then what it meant, but-”

“I’m tired of regrets,” Castiel interrupts. Dean lifts his gaze to meet Castiel’s. “Aren’t you?”

Dean purses his lips and shrugs. “Is that your way of saying you want to start over?”

“I want to try.” Castiel squeezes Dean’s hands. “I can’t make promises about whether or not I’ll be able to talk about things with you, but I can promise I won’t run away anymore. I’ll tell you next time I need space, and I won’t drag it out for too long.” He hesitates, then adds, “Because I love you,” as a reminder. “I always end up feeling guilty and missing you after a couple days anyway.”

Dean huffs, shifting in his seat. “Okay. We’ll try.” And when Castiel smiles at him, Dean smiles back and they meet somewhere in the middle, heads tilted just so, sighing contentedly into each other’s mouths. It’s easy to fall into this again, when Dean is warm and so eager to pull Castiel as close as possible, his hands pressed flat and secure against Castiel’s back. Kissing like this is nice, even with Dean’s scruff, and Castiel digs his fingers into Dean’s hair, holding-

“Ew, in front of the whole neighborhood, gross!”

They pull apart, blushing, and Dean automatically offers his brother the bird. Castiel smiles and turns to see Jess shoving Sam back towards the kitchen before throwing on a brilliant grin.

“Mary says dinner’s ready,” she announces, “but you guys can come in whenever you like."

“I could eat,” Dean says, turning to Cas. “You hungry?”

“You made it, right? I love your cooking.”

The tips of Dean’s ears turn red as he turns his face to his lap, not quite fast enough to hide his pleased smile. He stands, then offers a hand to help Castiel up, and when Castiel takes it, he feels his breath catch in his throat, a fluttery feeling high in his chest.

Hope. And love. Maybe this time, it’ll be enough.

**July 3rd, 2008**

“I brought you something.”

Dean glances up, and breaks into a glowing grin as he takes the offered sunflower, as Castiel sits down in the space next to him on the edge of the boardwalk. “Thanks, Don Juan,” Dean snarks, but that smile is too genuine, so Castiel just smiles back.

“Not ‘Casanova?’”

“Too obvious.” Dean leans over to press a kiss to Castiel’s cheek. “Gee whiz, you sure know how to treat a fella, Cas.”

Castiel swings an arm around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him tight against his side. “Gotta keep my guy happy, right?”

Dean chuckles and relaxes right into Castiel’s touch, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Castiel envies that, wishing he could always do the same. Even right now, initiating affection all on his own, it’s hard to get comfortable and resist that urge to pull away. He still doesn’t understand where this comes from, but over the past few days he’s found that if he pushes through the initial discomfort, it eventually goes away, and he and Dean can quite happily cuddle in together for hours.

There’s hope for them yet. If only some..

The sky is dark with low-hanging rainclouds, and the humidity is threatening but hasn’t followed through yet. “Do you want to go get dinner?” Castiel asks, resting his cheek against Dean’s hair. “Before the rain starts?”

“Eh, we got time. I’ve got another idea.” Dean pulls away, grinning crookedly as he gets to his feet and waits for Cas to do the same. “Roadhouse is probably a bad idea anyway.”

“Jo is still mad at me?”

Dean ducks his head sheepishly, and Castiel rolls his eyes even as he allows Dean to take his hand and lead the way to the Impala. They had agreed to keep to themselves for a little while, because Dean didn’t think it would win Castiel any favors if they announced they were okay, only for things to immediately go sour again. Castiel keeps promising that he’s not going to run away or cut Dean off anymore, but he doesn’t blame Dean for wanting to be careful. It’s the same way Castiel feels about what happened with Aaron, after all. They’ve both made mistakes. A little caution is probably wise.

Dean turns left on the interstate, and Castiel squints at him. “Are we going to Astoria, or…”

“I thought you could take me back to the rooftop at the resort,” Dean answers, smiling slightly. “I liked it up there.”

“We only went once, and it was two years ago.”

“Made that much of an impression. Besides,” Dean’s grin grows, “we can be alone up there.”

Castiel’s heartbeat picks up so rapidly that it makes him dizzy, and maybe that’s why he can’t tell whether it’s fear or excitement. That’s the norm these days, unfortunately, so Castiel just rubs the back of his neck and tries to sit still as they pull into the parking lot.

“Baby fits in your parking lot pretty well, don’t you think?” Dean comments as they climb out of the car. He brushes a reverent hand over the hood before putting his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and guiding him towards the resort.

Actually, the Impala stands out amongst tiny sports cars and top-of-the-line, environmentally-conscious models; there are a few other classic cars, but they’re put to less use than Dean’s, and are almost certainly maintained with less love. Castiel still likes her, but he likes her for a lot of the same reasons he likes Dean, and knowing that only makes him like her more.

So he makes a small noise of affirmation and puts his arm around Dean’s waist, holding him close as they head into the lobby and wait for the elevator.

There are people watching them. They’re subtle, but Castiel can still tell. He’s sure that most of them know exactly who he is, and once it occurs to him that he and Dean are supposed to be staying under the radar, he can’t help himself. As soon as the elevator doors _ding_ open, Castiel steps forward first, then turns to drag Dean in by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close enough to plant a kiss on his nose just before the doors slide shut.

“What was that for?” Dean asks, because he’s smart and perceptive.

“No reason,” Castiel answers, because everything is still so fragile.

They're quiet the whole journey up, until Castiel jiggles the rooftop door open and they step back into thick, humid air and angry skies. The wind is high and sharp against Castiel's skin, so he gestures for Dean to join him on the ground, their backs pressed against the little shed that houses the top of the stairs. This helps to block the wind, but Castiel smirks at Dean and says, "Still seem like a good idea?"

Dean grins again. "Hell yeah," he answers, cupping Castiel's jaw and pulling him in for a deep and insistent kiss.

They haven't kissed like this since that first date, before Castiel knew about Aaron, before everything got so tangled up. He finds a little comfort in that, which surprises him; they've gotten back to a place beyond hesitant presses of lips and awkward cuddles, and that's good to know. It’s good to know that Dean still wants that, and that he’s willing to go for it, and something settles in Castiel’s chest when he realizes that he wants this too.

Because Castiel is starting to understand that there is a gap in their relationship that needs bridged. Dean is not a virgin. He’s never said so, but Castiel is fairly certain that Dean has slept with people besides Lisa and Aaron, while Castiel could never quite get into the idea of having sex with Meg. Even with Dean, the interest is there, but usually only after Dean has initiated it.

It’s like Castiel’s sex drive is a very rare type of wood, and only Dean has the right kind of match to light it with. Maybe someone else could make it catch, but they would have to struggle quite a bit more than Dean has ever had to. All Dean has to do is press his teeth against the skin of Castiel’s neck, leave it pink and sensitive, and keep pulling Castiel closer like he can’t be close enough, even though Castiel can already feel Dean’s heartbeat pounding against his own. For Dean, Castiel is just that easy.

And that’s scary.

“Wait,” Castiel manages to say, flattening his palm against Dean’s chest. He whimpers when Dean places a kiss under his chin, then chokes out again, “Dean, wait, stop,” and Dean goes easily, his hand sliding up into Castiel’s hair even as he pulls back, concern in his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Castiel swallows, feeling foolish. This is stupid. He’s in love with Dean, he’s even gone as far as saying so, but _this_ is what seems like too much?

Still. Dean wanted them to talk, so Castiel will try.

“I think we should slow down.” When Dean raises his eyebrows, Castiel clutches at Dean’s shirt, wanting to keep him close, but not so close that Castiel decides to fuck it and ravish him. “I just… I don’t want…” Castiel swallows, closing his eyes; this is such a stupid, cliche thing to say, but it’s how he feels, and Dean would want him to say so. “Please don’t think this is a rejection, but I just don’t want you to think this is all about getting off.”

“I’d never think that,” Dean says quickly, frowning. But in the same instance, he’s moving his arms to Castiel’s shoulders, embracing him in a way that brings warmth and comfort and all the things Castiel has come to associate with Dean. “But, okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

They’re alone on the rooftop, the wind still rushing around them, so Castiel allows himself to nuzzle into Dean’s shoulder, holding Dean and allowing himself to be held. “What if I never want to,” Castiel mumbles, and he feels Dean’s chuckle more than he hears it.

“I’m not gonna die just because I’m not getting laid, Cas.”

“So if I said that this is okay,” Castiel squeezes Dean’s ribs, turns to bury his face in Dean’s neck, “and we can make out sometimes, but that’s it, you’d really be okay with that?”

“I love this,” Dean whispers fiercely, tugging Cas so close that he’s practically in Dean’s lap, but they both know that that would be a bad idea, so he settles for a little less. Still, those words do things to Castiel’s heartbeat, make his breathing speed up and make him reconsider what he’s asking for. “If we could go to bed like this every night and wake up like this every morning, I’d be the happiest man alive.”

He sounds so sincere that Castiel feels like his chest might burst open. He _believes_ Dean, and it means so much just to feel that again, to feel genuinely comfortable in Dean’s arms without having to struggle. He shifts until they’re almost laid out on the blacktop, his face pressed into Dean’s chest, their legs tangled together, and he laughs. Dean’s arms tighten around his shoulders, and when he feels a kiss being pressed into his hair, Castiel says, “That reminds me of a song.”

The sound is muffled, but Dean laughs anyway, singing, “ _Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up in the morning when the day is new?_ ”

He’s off-key, but Castiel loves him so much that it doesn’t matter. It is exactly the song he was thinking of. He lifts his head and sings back, “ _And after having spent the day together, hold each other close the whole night through._ ”

Dean is glowing with a smile so bright that it should chase the clouds away, so Castiel can’t resist leaning in to kiss him, chaste and adoring. Dean pulls back with another laugh, nuzzling his nose up to Castiel’s forehead. “That was really gross, Cas,” he whines. “We are so gross and cute right now.”

“Shut up, and don’t tell anyone but I love it,” Castiel responds.

“At least it wasn’t a Disney song.”

“I’d be happy to oblige anytime you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Dean smacks a kiss against Castiel’s hairline before he continues, “I mean it, though. We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to.”

There’s a moment where Castiel almost makes a snide remark about Aaron, but he reels it in and even manages to let it go without any sort of resentment. He doesn’t want to ruin this, and any step away from the past is a step in the right direction. “I wanted to take it slow. The rest was just hypotheticals.”

“Head games?”

“Oh yeah.”

“You’re cruel.” Dean sighs, adjusting his hold around Castiel’s shoulders. “Slow is fine, though. Just let me know what’s okay and when.”

Castiel hums an affirmation, closing his eyes and relaxing against Dean’s shoulder. The wind is still up, but between the shed and Dean’s torso, Castiel hardly notices.

There’s peace in the silence that follows. There are still doubts bouncing around the back of Castiel’s mind, still fear trying to permeate his veins, but Dean’s soft breath against his cheek, the soothing rise and fall of Dean’s chest… there’s a feeling of _safety_ here that Castiel is unused to, and he wants as much of it as he can get before it’s too late.

It’s probably a bad thing that Castiel feels like there’s an expiration date stamped on their relationship, but with the way things are going, it’s hard not to feel like all their ups will eventually spiral down.

Still, Castiel is almost dozing in Dean’s warmth, a thumb brushing up and down his shoulder blade, and he wants this moment to last forever.

He’s expecting it to end when the clouds overhead finally open up, but instead, they hear footsteps inside the shed, followed by the door handle jiggling furiously. Dean sits up in surprise, accidentally jostling Castiel onto the blacktop. “Sorry, sorry,” Dean says when Castiel hisses, all his weight landing on his elbow when he catches himself. “Jesus, Cas, I’m sorry.”

Castiel is sitting up now, trying to inspect his arm. He starts to tell Dean not to worry about it, but the door finally opens, and they both turn to see who else has found this hiding spot.

“Brother, if this is your idea of a date, I’m starting to realize why you have relationship problems.”

“Benny,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. “The hell are you doing up here?”

Benny pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, wiggling it around. “Was hoping I could get a call out to Andrea before the storm hit.” He lets the wind whistle around the for a moment before shrugging. “Looks like I’m out of luck.”

“You could call her from the stairwell,” Dean grumbles, getting to his feet. Castiel does the same, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. The wind is almost unbearable without Dean as a shield, and now that they’ve separated, Castiel can feel himself shaking, and he can see a fine tremble in Dean’s hands as well.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Castiel says, jerking his chin towards the shed. “We should all get inside anyway.”

Benny watches them carefully, then gestures for them to lead the way, and all three of them traipse back down the stairs to the top floor hallway. Castiel is still shivering, and Benny is still watching with something like suspicion when Dean takes the initiative to pull Castiel close to his body again, when Castiel holds Dean tight. It’s a little embarrassing to be so affectionate in front of another person, but a few minutes of this is enough to quell the shaking. Castiel is still disappointed when Dean finally pulls away and gently grasps his hands instead.

“Y’all weren’t having sex up there, were you?” Benny cuts in, jerking them back into the real world. Castiel rolls his eyes, but Dean scowls at his friend.

“No! Christ, and even if we were, it wouldn’t be your business, man.”

“Not that he didn’t want to,” Castiel adds, grinning cheekily when Dean turns the scowl in his direction.

Benny cocks an eyebrow at Castiel before gesturing in Dean’s direction. “You better not be jerking my boy around, Milton. I know what your family’s like-”

“You don’t know anything about my family,” Castiel bristles, tearing his hands away from Dean. “And you don’t know anything about me.”

“Be that as it may, I do know what you’ve done to Dean since you got here, and I know that nobody’s exactly happy with you right now.”

“I know that too.” Castiel shrugs, keeping his expression neutral. Next to him, Dean is opening his mouth to speak, his nose wrinkled with frustration, so Castiel talks before he can: “The story is more complicated than any of you know, however. That’s why I’m honestly a little tired of everyone else trying to stick their nose into it.”

Benny raises both eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest. “Excuse me?”

Dean is looking at him questioningly too, so Castiel sighs. “I understand that you all want to protect Dean. And I understand that I’ve given no one any reason to trust me. But there is more to our relationship than what you all choose to see, and what we choose to show you.” He hesitates here, glancing at Dean, who is regarding him with interest. “Dean knows that I…” Castiel swallows, his throat suddenly dry, but pushes through it anyway, “He knows I love him. Right?”

“Right,” Dean says quickly, unable to suppress his smile. Benny looks less than impressed when Castiel focuses on him again.

“So I fail to see what business it is of yours if Dean and I want to see each other.”

Now it’s Dean who crosses his arms, his expression smug as he thoughtfully adds, “That’s _right_.”

Benny is still staring at Castiel, who has to wonder what, exactly, he’s been told about Dean and Castiel’s relationship. Whatever he heard, it wasn’t good, because he still looks distrustful. Still, when Benny glances at Dean, and when Castiel realizes that Dean has situated himself much closer to Castiel than he was before, Benny finally drops his arms and rolls his eyes.

“You’re making a mistake, brother,” he says to Dean.

Dean just keeps smiling. “So you’ve said.”

Benny sighs and claps Dean on the shoulder. “You two get out of here, now. I still got a girl to call.”

Dean salutes him, placing a hand between Castiel’s shoulder blades to lead him back to the elevator. “Don’t get too rowdy, buddy.”

Benny must make a gesture of some sort, a silent response, because Castiel hears nothing but Dean’s pleased laughter as he presses the call button. Then, Dean arm is around his shoulder again, and Dean’s lips are against his cheek.

“You’re awesome,” he mumbles.

Castiel tilts his head towards Dean, turns just enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth when the elevator dings. “Do you want to come to the room?” He asks as they step inside.

Dean raises his eyebrows, making a curious face. “Am I allowed to?”

“Mother might be there, but she says she’s trying. I’m up to testing that if you are.” Castiel turns to Dean when the door dings again. He reaches out to hold it open, then extends his arm for the taking. Dean laughs and shakes his head.

“That’s the Cas I wanna see,” Dean says, taking Castiel’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “Rebellious little shit with an innocent face, I love it.”

Outside of his paintings, that’s the closest Dean has come to telling Castiel the depths of his own feelings, so Castiel allows himself to smile, allows himself to give Dean a real, lingering kiss before entering the hallway and leading the way towards his hotel room.

They slip in quietly, and Castiel only sees an empty room, so he tugs Dean along until they tumble onto the couch, giggling and exchanging little kisses. They fuss and fidget until Castiel is spooned up behind Dean, nose pressed into the nape of his neck, and Dean chuckles breathlessly when a stray hand settles on his belly.

“Don’t get too frisky there,” he teases quietly, “I’m pretty sure your mom is home.”

“Probably,” Castiel whispers back, kissing the freckle-covered junction of neck and shoulder before tucking Dean tighter against his chest. “But we’re just going to lay like this for a while. Okay?”

“Okay.” And Castiel can’t see his face, but Dean’s voice is small and pleased, and he seems relaxed in Castiel’s arms. He wiggles his ass back into Castiel’s hips until Castiel huffs and pinches his belly, but after the laughter stops, it’s quiet and peaceful in a way that Castiel wants all the time.

He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up, less confused by the warm, sleepy body in his arms than the one hovering over them. He blinks blearily up at red hair and blue eyes, and his first thought is _Anna,_ but the hairstyle is wrong.

“Mom?” Castiel mumbles. There’s a split-second hesitation before fingers brush through his hair.

“Sh,” says Naomi, “you can go back to sleep.”

Castiel doesn’t see where it comes from, but suddenly she has a blanket that she’s draping over him and Dean. This just confuses him further. “But-”

“Does Dean need to call his mother?” Naomi asks, always practical. Castiel isn’t positive, but he knows that Mary usually works late, so he shakes his head, and Naomi smiles slightly before stroking his hair again.

“Then go to sleep. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.” After another hesitation, she awkwardly pets Dean’s head. He doesn’t wake, but Castiel feels his shoulders shift against him, and he nestles back into Dean without having to think about it, his arm still slung across Dean’s waist.

“G’night, Mom,” Castiel slurs against Dean’s t-shirt, burrowing in under the blanket. The lights go out a few seconds after that, and Castiel is lucid for long enough to realize that means it’s night time, before he falls asleep again.

**July 7th, 2008**

It’s Dean who decides that a late arrival is their best option. Castiel hadn’t received a text message from Jo about her birthday party, but Dean feels pretty confident that it’s been long enough now, and as long as they look happy, she’ll get over it… but allowing other people to arrive first so she’ll be distracted is probably a good idea too.

So they wait at Dean’s house, settled on the couch by the bay window, Castiel’s arms around Dean’s waist, Dean’s arm around Castiel’s shoulders, and their feet propped up on the coffee table. When Sam notices them on his way out the door, he decides to wait too, and his company is welcome. He doesn’t comment on their sudden closeness, and keeps the conversation light, joking with his brother about movies and TV shows that Castiel hasn’t seen. Their voices are soothing anyway, and Castiel is almost dozing when Dean suddenly jumps and shifts to reach into his back pocket, pulling out his phone.

“There’s the angry message from Jo,” he says with a grin.

“Yeah, I just got one too.” Sam rolls his eyes as they get to their feet. Castiel’s phone stays silent, and he’s disappointed even after Dean offers a comforting kiss on his cheek. Sam makes a face, which earns him a punch in the shoulder once Dean’s locked the front door.

“Do I need to pick up Jess?” Dean asks as they head down the front stairs.

“Nah,” answers Sam. He slides into the Impala’s backseat, allowing Castiel to take shotgun, and waits until Dean has backed them out onto the road to continue, “She and Sarah are already there.”

“It’s so weird that your ex hangs out with your girlfriend,” Dean mutters, eyeing Sam with the rearview mirror. Sam snorts.

“Sarah’s hardly my ex.”

“You dated for over a year!”

“Yeah, when we were twelve.” Castiel can practically hear his eyeroll. “We held hands and kissed a few times and awkward danced at middle school socials. It was dating then, but it’s not dating now.”

“Okay, so what’s the difference? You and Jess actually get to second base?”

“ _Dean_!” And Sam sounds so scandalized that Castiel can’t help laughing, earning himself a kick from the backseat. “Don’t you start!”

“Hey, anything you scuff or tear comes outta your hide!” Dean snaps, but he calms down soon enough when Castiel’s fingers trail over his forearm. It’s not often that Castiel initiates physical affection, and Dean is quick to offer his hand for holding before he resumes teasing his brother. “Okay, third base? Third base is naked hoo-hah touching, right?”

“Dean, oh my _god_.”

“Hey, I’m your big brother, it’s my job to tell you all the fun stuff about sex that Mom doesn’t want you to know.” They’re stopped at the light to turn onto Main Street, so Dean turns around to grin at Sam. “I got some pretty good tips for you. All from experience.”

There’s a warm sort of nostalgia blossoming in Castiel, listening to this conversation. It reminds him of one of the last times his brothers were all together and getting along, the shared joy of teasing baby brother Castiel after his first date. “It’s true, y’know,” Castiel says. Dean turns back to the road, so Castiel twists to look at Sam. “Not the experience part-”

“Bull _shit_ , you know first hand I got experience.”

Castiel ignores Dean’s interruption, though Sam’s bright red blush and uncomfortable squirm is amusing in its own way. “When I got home from my first date, my brothers all sat me down at the table and insisted on giving me another birds and the bees talk. It was way more than I _ever_ wanted to know about sex, or my brothers having sex, but I guess putting up with that is just part of being a little brother.”

“That’s right,” Dean sing songs, pulling into the parking lot. There’s a bonfire out on the beach and pumping bass that can only be Jo’s party. Still, as they’re all getting out of the car, Dean asks, “First date with who?”

Castiel shuts his door and smirks at Dean from across the Impala’s hood. “Bela.” He waits for Dean’s face to fall before he adds, “The one you hijacked, remember? Our first kiss?”

Dean’s smile is surprisingly shy, aimed at the ground as he approaches Castiel, puts an arm around his shoulders. “Your first kiss,” he mumbles, knocking his temple against Castiel’s cheek.

“That you stole,” Castiel reminds him, even as his hand slides around Dean’s waist, as Dean chuckles against his skin.

And it’s nice, until they remember Sam is still there. Sam, who is watching them like they’re a fairy tale come to life, grinning from ear to ear as he says, completely sincere: “You guys are disgustingly adorable.”

It’s Castiel who reaches out to mess up Sam’s shaggy hair, laughing when he ducks and protests. Being the youngest brother in his family gives him a little sympathy for Sam, but at the end of the day, one of them is still younger and smaller than the other, and it’s hard to resist a little playful teasing.

Besides, when Castiel finally turns back to Dean, he catches him smiling fondly, adoration alight in his eyes. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” Dean answers quickly, shaking his head and plastering on a more familiar, confident smile. “C’mon, my phone just buzzed again. The longer we take, the more pissed Jo’s gonna be.”

They approach the beach in silence, though Dean and Sam keep pushing at each other once they’re on the sand. Castiel ignores this behavior, instead trying to calm his sudden nerves. Dean’s friends had shut him out for weeks because of what happened the last time Castiel was on this beach. Even though Dean has happily welcomed him back, he’s not sure Charlie or Pam or Jo will do the same. Especially Jo.

Dean takes his hand and squeezes it once they’re in view of the bonfire, and he’s smiling gently when Castiel turns to look at him. “We’re good,” he says quietly. “That’s all that matters.”

Castiel’s heart skips a beat, then calms immediately after.

Once they reach the circle and Jo has looked up to greet them, however, it’s a different story. She’s smiling until she notices Castiel, and her eyes narrow and the smile falls away as her jaw clenches. Dean sighs, exasperated, and Castiel coughs before he says, “Hello. Happy birthday.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. There are faces here that Castiel only barely recognizes, who keep talking and laughing in the background, but Dean’s closest friends are scrutinizing him slowly, and it hurts a little. They’re his friends too, aren’t they? They’re supposed to be. So why do they always automatically take Dean’s side without even asking Castiel to explain his own?

Thankfully, Charlie is who she is. She’s the first to smile at Castiel and stand up to hug him. “I missed you,” she whispers before pulling back and ruffling his hair. “Benny told us you guys were working things out. Well,” she giggles, “he didn’t say it so nicely, but still. We were expecting you.”

Castiel glances at Jo, who looks away, pretending she’s more interested in the conversation a couple other people are having near her. Dean puts a hand on the back of Castiel’s neck, offering a gentle kiss when Castiel turns to him. “I’ll talk to her,” he says, gently shoving Castiel off with Charlie, who eagerly drags him away, a little further out from the rest of the group. Bela and Victor are there, seated on a rather large piece of driftwood and watching the surf come in and out. Castiel wonders when Bela and Victor had the time to become friends, but then Charlie is flopping down next to Bela, hips and shoulders pressed close, and Castiel can’t resist smirking when Bela gives him a withering glare, a silent command to keep his mouth shut.

He’s been keeping his mouth shut on this subject for years, so he’d be offended if he wasn’t so happy that she’s finally making progress.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” says Victor, getting up and putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You come over here and sit by me, friend. We’ve got business to discuss.”

“Leave him alone, Vic,” Charlie reprimands with a roll of her eyes. “Dean already chewed Benny out about this, and he’s probably doing the same to Jo right now. Do you _really_ want him up your ass too?”

“If I have things that I want to say to Castiel, I’m gonna say them.” Victor puts enough pressure on Castiel’s shoulder that he folds into a seated position on the driftwood, and Victor quickly does the same, caging him in. “Dean can bitch all he wants-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bela drawls, cutting him off. “We get it. You’re also in love with Dean and you’re jealous that Cas got there first, get over it.”

That comment surprises a laugh out of Charlie, which makes Bela smile.

Victor, though, is scowling, clearly unimpressed. “Laugh it up, fuzzball,” he snaps, which only makes Charlie laugh harder.

Castiel doesn’t know Victor very well, unfortunately. He knows that Dean met Victor through Lisa, and as Dean is prone to do, gradually dragged him into becoming a permanent (if not unusual) member of his gang of friends. He knows that Victor played football at their high school. And he knows that at Jo’s birthday party last year, Victor took Dean on a walk as soon as Castiel arrived with Meg. Bela had gone too, but surprisingly, she refused to tell him what had happened, claiming that it was just boring chatter that went over Dean’s head and the details were unimportant.

He doesn’t know much about Victor’s personality or his sense of humor or his relationship with Dean, but for some reason it doesn’t surprise him that yet _another_ one of Dean’s friends feels a need to protect him from Castiel.

“What are you going to say that Benny didn’t?” Castiel asks, trying not to sound annoyed.

Victor opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off once again by an exaggerated yawn from Bela.

“If I have to sit around and listen to any more discussions about Castiel and Dean, I’m going to vomit,” she says when Victor glares at her. “You have literally nothing new to say, so shove it, or I’m going to tattle on you.”

“I don’t give a shit what Dean thinks-”

“ _Dean_!” Bela yells over her shoulder, nudging Charlie until she joins in. Victor launches his foot out, aiming to kick Bela’s leg, but with Castiel between them, it’s he who gets the brunt of it, hissing in pain, and reaching down to rub at his shin. Beside him, Bela gasps dramatically.

“And now you’re _abusing_ him! Wait until Dean hears about _this_!”

Castiel has to laugh at that, at Charlie still screeching Dean’s name, and at the way Victor is now trying to get the girls to shut up, stumbling in the sand and wrestling with Bela, trying to fit a hand over her mouth and failing. Dean finally comes to see what the commotion is all about, and Bela yells, “Victor is harassing your boyfriend!” while Victor yells back, “I didn’t do _shit_!” and Castiel revels in the chaos and loves the way everything finally feels like it’s back to normal.

Dean, however, looks annoyed, like he’s tired of explaining what’s happening over and over and over again. So while Bela, Charlie, and Victor wrestle in the sand, Castiel gets up and steps around them, taking Dean’s hand and asking, “When was the last time you danced with me?”

Dean blinks. “Uh…”

“Years ago. Come on.”

Jo is seated at her laptop, messing around with her playlists while an energetic beat pumps through the speakers. She lifts her head to meet Castiel’s gaze, just as Dean is wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and rolling his hips to the tempo. Jo makes a face and rolls her eyes, but as she focuses on the screen again, Castiel can see a tiny smile on her face, and he happily accepts the vibrant kiss Dean offers, as a celebration of being absolved.

For a little while, it’s almost as if the last two years never happened. Dean is affectionate and happy, and it’s contagious in a way Castiel hadn’t expected. The first time Castiel came to Jo’s birthday, he had been Dean’s favorite dance partner, and this still proves true, even though Castiel has to push Dean away once, for getting just a little too frisky. Dean shrugs this off easily, without even having to be told what he did wrong, and Castiel loves him all the more for it.

But it’s too easy, and it can’t stay too easy. Castiel decides he wants a break, and Charlie quickly takes his place as Dean’s partner, which wipes the disappointed look right off Dean’s face. Castiel grabs a bottled water out of a cooler and sits cross-legged on the sand, watching his friends dance in the firelight. He hasn’t been this happy in years.

When someone sits down next to him, he’s expecting it to be Jo. Glancing over and seeing Aaron actually shocks him into numbness for a few seconds.

“When did _you_ get here?” Castiel asks, when he can finally string words together.

“Twenty minutes ago, give or take.” Aaron smirks and winks at him. “You were a little busy.”

Castiel blushes, despite himself, and turns back to the fire. Dean is laughing at something, probably Victor; it sounds like he’s trying to catcall Dean and Charlie over the music. “ _Why_ are you here?” Castiel asks petulantly.

Aaron makes a face and shrugs. “Jo invited me.”

That’s more than Castiel could say, and that stings. Quite a bit, actually. He tries not to let himself wonder if Jo was trying to fix Dean back up with Aaron, and clears his throat. “Then what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you. Just, clear the air a little.” Aaron smiles slightly. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that you and Dean have been fighting, and I thought it might help if you understood what went on with us.”

“We’re _fine,_ now,” Castiel snaps. He takes a long drink of water, trying to avoid meeting Aaron’s gaze. His skin is crawling, and the anger he thought he’d gotten rid of is suddenly simmering again. He’s flooded with such a sudden rush of disappointment that he almost feels sick, and has to set the water bottle back in his lap, sighing.

Aaron sighs as well. “Won’t you just… take a walk with me, or something?”

“Why?” Castiel snorts, shaking his head. “You’re Dean’s friend, right? You’re friends with his friends, shouldn’t you be angry with me too?”

To his surprise, Aaron laughs. “Listen,” he says, when Castiel glares at him, “Jo and Charlie and those guys, I get what they were trying to do, but whatever they think they know about you and Dean and this _thing_ you’ve got going on, they’re wrong.” He chuckles again, eyes directed skyward. “I know this sounds weird, but I probably know what Dean’s feeling better than he does. Or at least better than he could explain. And I want to share that with you.”

He only knows these things because he’s shared Dean’s bed. Multiple times. This short, stout, beardy boy, knows a part of Dean that Castiel doesn’t, and it’s hard not to be viciously jealous. It’s hard to try and push all that aside and listen to what Aaron is actually saying.  It’s hard not to be angry all over again because Aaron _ruined_ the joy that Castiel was finally feeling.

These feelings must show on Castiel’s face, because Aaron is suddenly putting a bit more space between them, and he’s saying, “I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, of course. Dean kind of likes that enigma thing, y’know, and he always said that you knew him better than anyone, that you accepted him anyway, and that’s what he-”

“I don’t want to talk right now,” Castiel says stiffly, climbing to his feet. He takes a few deep breaths, settling that rising fury in his gut by watching the way Dean grabs Jo and spins her under his arm before passing her off to Victor, who grins like Prince Charming while Dean laughs. “I don’t want to ruin Jo’s party by fighting with Dean, and I know that’s what a conversation with you is going to lead to.”

“It doesn’t _have_ to-”

“You think you know Dean, but you don’t know _me_ ,” Castiel practically snarls. He catches himself, takes another deep breath, and clears his throat. “I made promises to Dean that I intend to keep, and tonight has been a very good night. I want to keep it that way. So,” he sighs, “if you really want to talk, we’ll have to do it another time.”

Aaron glances over at the bonfire, and Castiel follows his gaze. Dean has finally noticed them, and it’s clear just from his posture that he’s concerned by this turn of events, and he’s probably debating whether or not to intervene.

“Meet me at Seaside Cafe Thursday morning?” Aaron offers.

“Alright.”

“Is nine too early?”

Castiel scoffs. “Hardly. Nine is perfect.”

And without another word, he stalks across the sand, back to where Dean is apprehensively watching his approach.

“Are you-” Dean only manages that much before Castiel grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s a little too aggressive, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind, quickly catching on and submitting himself to Castiel’s whims. When Castiel finally pulls back, Dean grins dreamily and teases, “That was kinda territorial.”

“I know.”

“I like it.”

“I figured.”

“You okay?” Dean’s eyes are soft and green, and his fingers are gentle when they brush through the hair at Castiel’s temple. The gesture releases some of the tension in Castiel’s shoulders so he can sigh and respond.

“Fine.” Dean still looks skeptical, so Castiel swallows and adds, “I love you.”

“I know.” But Dean’s expression doesn’t change, so Castiel offers up his sweetest smile, gripping Dean’s arm and pulling him away from the bonfire, towards a rather physical game of frisbee taking place a little closer to the water, and leaving Jo and Victor the only ones still dancing.

Castiel really does intend to keep his promises to Dean, to talk to him and not to run away. So whatever Aaron wants to say, Dean doesn’t need to know just yet. It’s not as important as making sure tonight is perfect.

And when Dean drops Castiel off at the hotel, happy with just a lingering good night kiss, Castiel knows that no matter what happens in the future, at least they will have this memory to smile about.

**July 10th, 2008**

The Seaside Cafe is a little white building located on the boardwalk, with large, blue-trimmed windows and a patio that allows patrons to overlook the beach. Castiel’s first plan had been to sit outside and wait for Aaron, but the sky is grumpy gray again, and it starts to rain just as he arrives, so with huff of annoyance, he decides to go ahead and wait inside.

A bell rings overhead, and a familiar voice sings out, “Be right there!”

“Mary?” Castiel calls back, approaching the counter. Once he’s leaning over it, trying to peer back into the kitchen, Mary’s head pops out. Her hair is pulled back in a bun and there’s flour on her cheek and forehead, and she blinks at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a second, hurrying out to the register and offering up a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Dean and his friends don’t usually come here, I’m a little… surprised to see you.” She clears her throat, shooing him off the counter. “Especially at this time of day. In fact, I thought Dean was at work?”

She’s looking past him now, looking for her son, and Castiel shakes his head. “I’m not here with Dean.”

“Oh?” Her smile turns a little more genuine. “Well, we just pulled some muffins out of the oven, if you want one?”

Castiel smiles back. “How much?”

“Eh,” Mary shrugs. “You’re my first customer today, _and_ you’re kinda cute. No charge.”

Castiel blushes slightly when she winks and turns to head back into the kitchen, just as the bell rings over the door again. A few seconds later, Aaron appears at his side, right on time.

“The croissants here are really good,” Aaron offers, eyeing the menu. He’s trying to be friendly, and part of Castiel feels guilty about the other part that immediately raises its hackles, viewing Aaron as some sort of predator or villain.

“Mary is bringing me something,” Castiel responds, wincing internally at the coldness of his tone. He tries again, “How’s the coffee?”

“It’s not Dutch Bros, but it’s not bad,” Aaron answers honestly. Mary reappears just then, and when she notices Aaron, her smile falters as her eyes widen. She glances back and forth between the two boys for a moment before putting the smile back on and handing Castiel a small, brown bag.

“Hi, Aaron,” she says warmly, even though it’s clear that she’s unnerved by this situation. “The usual?”

“Yes, please,” Aaron says, and it takes everything Castiel has not to throw the bag in his hand against the wall and storm out. Even _Mary_ has some idea of what was going on between Aaron and Dean. She wouldn’t be so confused by the two of them spending time together if she didn’t know.

Still, Castiel feels like he can’t breathe, choking on his own anger, so he says, “I’ll get us a table outside,” and doesn’t even wait for Aaron to respond before leaving. His chest and shoulders feel tight, and he’s a little too aggressive with his chair as he pulls it out to sit down. It’s still raining, but he stubbornly ignores it, watching lightning flash out over the ocean.

It was so easy to forget his anger when he was missing Dean, when they were separated. He mourns the loss of peace and joy, because he knows that there’s absolutely nothing Aaron will tell him today that won’t set him off. Briefly, he considers cancelling this appointment and just going home - what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, after all.

Unfortunately, the reality is that Castiel doesn’t trust Dean when it comes to Aaron. Dean has said over and over again that his experiences with Aaron weren’t romantic, that it was all for education and experience, and Castiel wants to believe him… but he can’t. Because he doesn’t understand how Dean can compartmentalize sex like that, especially when he’s supposed to have feelings for Castiel. He should only want to be with Castiel, right? Castiel only wants to be with Dean. Does this mean that Dean is going to want to continue having sex with other people? If he can -

“You sure you don’t want to eat inside?”

Castiel scowls, twisting to look at Aaron over his shoulder. “And have this conversation around Dean’s _mother_?”

“Point.” Aaron sets his own bag and a cup of coffee down before reaching to open the parasol stuck in the center of the table. “This is probably a good idea in that case.”

Castiel had been too busy sulking to even think of that. He frowns, sullen, but says a quiet “Thank you,” as he opens his bag anyway. The smell is incredible: blueberries and butter and cinnamon, carried off by the ozone smell on the wind. He tears off bits and pieces, popping them into his mouth as he warily eyes Aaron from across the table. Aaron doesn’t seem to care, tucking into his croissant with gusto and lots of butter.

There’s a weird feeling of insecurity and arrogance fluctuating through Castiel’s nerves as he watches Aaron and waits for the conversation to get started. He knows he shouldn’t be comparing their appearances, but he can’t help it - they don’t look a thing alike, and it just makes it harder to understand Dean’s motivations. If Aaron at least had blue eyes, or was a few inches taller, maybe things would make a little more sense. Maybe then, he could at least convince himself that Dean had just been missing him.

Aaron takes a deep breath and a sip of coffee as Castiel pushes his bag away. The muffin just tastes like ash now; he’ll have to come back here on a better day and give the cafe another shot.

“Are you ready?” Aaron asks. Castiel cringes and gestures for him to go on. “You can wipe that look off your face, ‘cause this is gonna be short and sweet on my end.”

“Excuse me?”

Aaron smirks, rolling his eyes. “I never had any delusions about what was going on with me and Dean. I knew from the day I met him that he was head over heels in love with some other dude.”

Fury burns the back of Castiel’s throat. “And you still thought it was okay to have sex with him?”

Aaron shrugs. “It wasn’t my relationship. Dean made the offer, and I figured he wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay.”

“But why in the hell would it be _okay_?” Castiel can’t even look at him, crushing the paper bag under his fist. “I just… I don’t understand how this even happened in the first place. Jo and Charlie say he only ever talked about me so I shouldn’t care who he slept with, but then they got so weird when you came into the pizza place, and…” He slumps, all of his anger rushing out of him in a frustrated sigh, leaving only confusion and inadequacy. “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.”

Aaron cocks an eyebrow. “Dean didn’t tell you?”

“It’s been… tempestuous. Between us.” Castiel stares at the table, fidgeting with his fingers. “He hasn’t explained himself well, and I got tired of asking and not getting a satisfying answer.”

“Well, let me try.” Aaron clears his throat and crumples his paper bag into a ball, tossing it towards a nearby garbage can. It misses by a few inches, and he groans, hurrying to retrieve it. “I’m new to town and Dean and his friends take me in-”

“They’re good at that,” Castiel says dryly. “Fast forward to the new information.”

Aaron frowns slightly, but complies. “Since Dean and Charlie are both pretty open about the whole bi-lesbian thing, I let them know that I’d been checking out a few guys’ butts. Just out of curiosity, didn’t know if I swung one way, the other, or both. Next thing I know, Dean’s got me cornered and making a proposition.”

As soon as he finds another boy who might be interested in boys? Castiel’s heart sinks, and he hates the whimper in his voice when he says, “That quickly?”

Aaron blinks, and takes a moment to think about it. “Well. Actually, it took a little while. We talked about sexuality a lot, but he didn’t make the offer until, I dunno… a week later? Maybe a little longer. Around there.”

That doesn’t make it better.

“He was clear about what it was,” Aaron continues. “He thought it’d give me a chance to figure myself out, and it’d give him a chance to figure out gay sex without putting you at risk. Nothing more than that. He knew you were it for him, and that never changed.” He snorts, leaning back in his chair. “We’d try something new, and as soon as it was over, he’d be talking about how excited he was to share that with Cas. Y’know, way to make your partner feel appreciated, Winchester.”

Castiel pushes himself away from the table, chair screeching against the concrete. The rain is still coming down, and he doesn’t even care. His heart is pounding, heavy in his ears, so hard that he feels dizzy for a moment. Aaron relays all of this so glibly, like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t get to have all the little moments that Castiel didn’t know he wanted.

“I can’t do this,” Castiel whispers. “I don’t want to know this. I can’t believe he’d… And _you_!” He lifts his head, and now Aaron is the one who looks wary, no more amusement in his eyes. “You’d let him use you like that? This doesn’t… it doesn’t sound _anything_ like my Dean, to do that to someone!”

“ _Your_ Dean?” Aaron’s smirk comes back easily, as if it had never left. “If he used me, then I used him. C’mon, have you _seen_ that guy? Like anyone’s gonna say no to someone who looks like that. Hell, I bet even a straight guy would say yes. Dean is _gorgeous_.”

Nobody has to tell Castiel that, but a fierce sense of possession rips through him, jealousy churning in his gut. Castiel knows Dean better than anybody, or so he likes to think - he doesn’t know the Dean that Aaron knows, after all. Even so, he doesn’t like hearing someone talk about Dean that way. He’s reminded of that unnerving painting Dean showed him, the exaggerated lips and lashes, and he wonders if Aaron was the one who brought that on.

“I’m gonna guess from the use of the word ‘tempestuous’ that you haven’t tried out much of Dean’s experience yet, “ Aaron continues, like he has no idea the hot water he’s already in. It’s strange that Castiel can be furious at Dean, and so furiously protective of him at the same time. “He’s a giver, not a user.”

“And what the hell does that mean?” Castiel snaps. His shoulders and knuckles hurt from the tension of trying to keep his anger under control.

“He wants whoever he’s with to enjoy themselves, even if it’s at his own expense.”

Castiel deflates again. Yeah. That sounds like Dean.

“Listen. Cas. Can I call you Cas?” Aaron doesn’t wait for an answer before barrelling on. “I am not your competition. Dean? He’s awesome in bed, but he’s borderline obsessed with you, and I’m not interested in being a side piece.”

“Great,” Castiel drawls. “I feel so much better.”

“Seriously. Obsessed. You have nothing to be jealous about. I mean, look at me and look at you-”

“You can stop now,” Castiel sighs, rubbing both hands over his face. “I just… Can I just ask one more thing?”

Aaron shrugs. “Free country.”

“How much did you and Dean do?”

This seems to throw him. “What do you mean?”

Castiel hesitates. It’s a stupid question, the more he thinks about it. It’s possessive and selfish, and he knows that there’s no answer Aaron can give that won’t end up with Castiel angry and hurt. But, considering Dean was Castiel’s first kiss, his first sexual experience, and that Castiel is still technically a virgin and can really only see sharing that with Dean… Well. He wants to know what’s left. If Dean can give him something in return. Maybe that makes him a romantic, or naive, or selfish, but Castiel doesn’t care.  

“Like. What did you do? Was it just… because he was pretty good at… I was just…”

This is awkward, and Aaron gets to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. Castiel stands as well, barely noticing that the rain has momentarily stopped. “Well,” Aaron starts, and coughs softly. “We kinda did everything.”

Oh yeah. This was a mistake.

“ _Everything_?”

“Generally. The big stuff. Y’know.” Castiel tries to keep his expression stoic, but his devastation must show somehow, because Aaron actually winces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t.” Castiel pushes his hair out of his face and takes a few deep breaths. This is too much. It’s unfair. And the worst part is, all he wants to do is run away and shut the world out for a few days, but he can’t do that anymore. He promised Dean he wouldn’t.

He’s going to have to figure out how to talk about this, and find the courage to do so. To make Dean listen. And the only thing that gives him any comfort is the hope that Dean is right, that talking about it will help, and they’ll finally be able to move forward from this disaster.

“Thank you for your time, Aaron,” Castiel says suddenly. Aaron tilts his head, confused, but Castiel takes off down the boardwalk without another word. If he runs fast enough, he just might beat the rain.

**July 12th, 2008**

When Dean calls and invites Castiel to see a movie with him, he almost says no. It’s been a few days, but he’s still feeling bruised and tender from his conversation with Aaron, and his instinct is to push Dean away again.

But he promised he’d work on that, and he intends to keep that promise. He _loves_ Dean, and he wants them to work through this. He can manage a movie, if it helps get them through the woods faster.

It’s harder than he expected.

Dean is beaming when he sees Castiel, like all is right in the world, and for all he knows, it is. The last time they got together, Castiel had danced with him and tackled him during the frisbee game just to steal a kiss. Dean looks at Castiel like he’s the sun and moon and stars and the entire galaxy wrapped up in human form, and Castiel can’t take it.

How can Dean look at him like that after spending half the school year sleeping with someone else? They can call it an arrangement or experimentation all they want, but Castiel can’t wrap his mind around the thought of loving someone as much as he loves Dean, and still wanting to have sex with anyone else. He can’t understand it, and it bothers him so much that he genuinely feels sick when Dean reaches out for a hug.

And don’t think Dean doesn’t notice when Castiel flinches. Of course he does, and of course that puppy-dog look of confusion and hurt just makes Castiel feel worse. Whatever happened with Aaron, it was months ago. Dean said they quit before prom, and swore that it would never happen again, with Aaron or anyone else. Even if Castiel decided he wanted a relationship without sex, Dean said he would be happy with that. So why does Castiel continue to punish him?

Castiel tries on a weak smile and lies, “I ran here, I’m all sweaty. Sorry.”

Dean doesn’t look convinced. “You know that doesn’t bother me.” He hesitates, but when Castiel can’t think of another response, Dean sighs and settles for resting a hand high on Castiel’s back, between his shoulderblades, to guide him towards the door.

Castiel lets Dean buy the tickets without fuss, afraid that playful arguing could become a real fight, and Dean notices this too, watching him intently even as they go through the door and get their tickets torn. He brushes his fingers through the curls behind Castiel’s ears, commenting, “You’re quiet today.”

Castiel steps back, away from Dean’s touch, but he smiles anyway. “Tired, I guess.”

“You want popcorn?”

“Maybe a Sprite? And some-”

“Twizzlers. As usual.” Dean’s smile is blinding, and despite everything, Castiel feels his own smile grow. “You got it. Go save us some seats and I’ll find you.”

He hesitates again, as if debating whether or not to kiss or hug Castiel, but ultimately it seems he’s picked up on the theme for today, and settles for a pat on Castiel’s shoulder, a gentle shove towards their theater. It’s a little surprising, how perceptive Dean is and how he’s chosen not to pry, but Castiel appreciates the behavior too much to dwell on it.

They’re seeing a Pixar movie, and there are plenty of grubby kids running around the theater, so Castiel chooses a pair of seats in the very back. He worries, briefly, if it won’t send the wrong message - he’s not in the mood for a make-out ‘fest - but then Dean is stomping up the stairs with an armful of snacks, and when Castiel chooses not to raise the armrest between them, Dean covers so well that Castiel almost doesn’t catch the way his smile falls.

“Sprite and Twizzlers, as requested,” Dean says, placing the soda in the cup-holder between them, and his unspoken understanding makes Castiel’s heart twist.

While they wait for the movie to start, Castiel lets Dean play with his hair, even though it makes his skin crawl and his mind flood with unwanted images of Dean and Aaron in bed, Dean doing the same thing to another boy. He jerks away when the previews cue up, and Dean’s expression goes pointedly blank as he rests his hands back in his lap.

The movie is unexpectedly romantic, considering it’s about a couple of robots in space, and it brings up a myriad of emotions that Castiel has no idea how to process. The dorky little robot reminds him of Dean, willing to do whatever it takes to help his Apple-knock-off love interest, from holding an umbrella over her head to keep her dry in the rain, to following her into space, hanging off the side of a rocket ship.

But it’s so simple for them. They’re robots in a Pixar film. They can dance in stardust and bring life back to Earth. They don’t have old lovers and deceptive mothers to worry about. They don’t perpetually underestimate themselves or instinctively hide their feelings behind a stoic face.

The little robot’s eagerness just to hold hands makes Castiel so distraught that, despite the flash of nausea he feels at the image of Dean and Aaron cozying up on dates just like this, he lays his own hand on the armrest between himself and Dean. Palm up. An open invitation. When Dean notices and slots their fingers together, like a key in a lock, his smile is a little sad, but he doesn’t look at Castiel.

They stay like that until the film ends. Castiel’s heart is pounding as he carefully slides his hand out of Dean’s grasp, and they quietly make their way through the crowd, back out into the sunshine. When Castiel glances over, Dean shrugs and starts walking off down the sidewalk. Panic shoots through Castiel, and he hurries to catch up, even though part of him wants to take off in the other direction and pretend that none of this ever happened.

For several moments, they don’t speak. Dean stares straight ahead, and Castiel watches the ground, but they walk in step, going who knows where.

“So,” Dean starts when they reach a crosswalk. On the other side is the garage, and Dean’s studio. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Castiel says without thinking.

Disappointment crosses Dean’s face. “You sure?”

This is what Castiel was afraid of. He rolls his eyes and huffs. “I’m allowed to have a bad day sometimes, Dean.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean swallows, staring at his feet, plodding along on the sidewalk. “I dunno. I was… y’know, I’d like to talk about our bad days. Help each other out.”

“I don’t need to talk about it.”

“You’re not…” Now it’s Dean who huffs, whose cheeks are starting to look a little pink. “I just think maybe, if you’re gonna go cold, I deserve to know what I did wrong. Right?” He turns to look at Castiel now, and his brow is furrowed, lips pursed in frustration. “We should-”

“‘Go cold?’” Castiel snaps back. “Because I’m an ice queen. Thanks for that.”

“Don’t twist my words. I just want us to _talk_ about our shit, I want us to handle problems _together_ , I-” He stops walking, so Castiel does too. His body is practically thrumming with frustration, and he sways back and forth on his feet, hands crossed over his chest, as Dean continues, “I could come to you if I wanted to talk about something, right? If I wanted to start drinking again, or was fighting with Sam, or whatever?”

“Of course,” and Castiel means that. Even if they parted ways right now, if Dean called in distress later tonight, Castiel would do whatever it takes to help him out, or make him feel better.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dean, just leave it alone!” Castiel rakes a hand through his hair, anxiously looking anywhere but at Dean’s face. He finally notices their location, and gestures across the street at the Dutch Bros stand. “Let’s just get some coffee and move on with our day, okay?”

Dean tightens his jaw, clearly holding back words, and nods stiffly. They jaywalk to the stand, and Castiel steadfastly continues to avoid looking at Dean.

“You’re not okay,” Dean mumbles, their feet crunching gravel as they approach the building, and something in Castiel snaps. He turns and shoves Dean, who stumbles but doesn’t fall. “The hell, Cas?” he yells, eyes wide.

“I don’t want to be here,” Castiel says without thinking, then rubs his hands over his face. “I want to be with you, but I don’t. I can’t…” Dean’s face is falling, so Castiel puts his hands in his hair, tugging gently, as if the physical pain will distract him from the pain that comes from hurting Dean. “I love you, but I don’t trust you, and I don’t want to be around you, but I can’t stay away.”

“Cas, I-”

“I don’t know how to get past this, Dean! I fucked up with the running away all the time, I know, and I know you said you wouldn’t sleep with anyone else, but I still-.. I just-... I _can’t_ -...”

The words are in his head, beating around in his brain, but he can’t say them. He’s been told, again and again, that he’s wrong and he overreacted, and yes, Sam and Jess agreed with him, but they’re _kids_. It was nice to have someone on his side for a moment, but he doesn’t want to accuse Dean of something he’s not guilty of. He doesn’t want to invite the girls to descend on him like locusts, or avoid him like the plague. And Dean would just wave it off and talk to him like he’s a child.

Everything is better if he just pretends that Dean never slept with Aaron, but after their conversation the other day, Castiel can’t let it go. He can’t shove it aside and lock it away anymore. Even with Aaron confirming the constant pattern of Dean’s infatuation, Castiel can’t understand how Dean can be so _flippant_ about having sex with someone else. And if Dean can ignore his feelings and have sex with Aaron, if all their friends can understand it, what’s wrong with Castiel if he can’t?

“Cas!” Dean’s voice is sharp, and his hands are gentle when they wrap around Castiel’s wrist. “Breathe!”

Castiel takes a deep breath, shakes his head, then hisses, “I talked to Aaron.”

“ _What_?” Dean actually lets go when Castiel pulls away, his brow furrowed. “You went behind my back?”

“He came to _me_!” Castiel runs both hands through his hair. His heart is pounding in his chest, heavy and ringing between his ears, and he closes his eyes when the sunlight becomes too bright. “I think he thought he was doing you some kind of _favor_ , but he just…”

Aaron had spoken so casually. Like he thought it was just that easy. Like a romance novel where a misunderstanding is just that. But this isn’t just a misunderstanding, and Castiel drops his hands, clenching them into fists as he glares at Dean. “You never thought to save some part of yourself for _me_?” he accuses quietly. When Dean just blinks at him in confusion, Castiel’s anger spikes again. “I asked him what you did together, and he tells me ‘ _Everything_.’ You couldn’t hold onto _one_ first for me? Something special, just for us?”

To Castiel’s horror, Dean actually rolls his eyes. “Cas, that’s fucking ridicu-”

“ _Dean Winchester_!”

Dean goes still suddenly, turning in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. His lips are parted in surprise as a stout woman with short hair approaches them, her expression thunderous. “What are you-”

The woman puts a hands on her hip, the other busy holding a cup, and clears her throat. Dean immediately ducks his head, cheeks flushed, and puts his hands behind his back. “Hello, Missouri,” he mumbles. “It’s nice to see you.”

Castiel squints, standing up straight. Missouri is a familiar name, but he can’t put his finger on where he’s heard it before.

“This wouldn’t be the famous Castiel, would it?,” Missouri says in a careful tone. Dean’s blush deepens, his freckles coming out to play, as she gives Castiel a surprisingly warm smile. “Of course it is. I recognize him from your paintings. You shouldn’t speak to your boyfriend that way, Dean.”

“He’s not my-” Castiel begins, at the same time Dean blurts out, “I didn’t mean to-” and Missouri silences them both with a glare.

“Come sit with me,” she says, using the cup in her hands to indicate a bench nearby. “You boys look like you need a little guidance.”

Dean actually looks nervous, glancing at Castiel as they follow her to the bench and take a seat. Castiel is still confused, watching Dean for cues. Missouri rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Introduce us, please.”

Dean clears his throat. “Cas, this is Missouri. She’s a social worker I do my therapy sessions with once a month. Missouri, this is Cas.”

_Oh_. “I’ve heard about you,” Castiel says. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You’ve helped Dean quite a bit.”

Missouri smiles and raises her cup to him. “I could say the same,” she says before taking a sip. Then, quickly, “Dean stop gawking.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Dean mumbles, ducking his head again. Castiel frowns, bothered by this more submissive side of Dean. “I just… don’t you live in Seaside?”

“I was having car troubles and heard from a co-worker that Singer’s was the best place to go. Was actually hoping to see you there, but you weren’t working, so I went to get some tea while I wait.” She adds with a soft smile, “I suppose this is just fate.”

Dean’s shoulders shift, but he says nothing. Missouri eyes them both, sipping at her tea, before sighing again. “Well? What’s the problem here?”

Dean immediately turns to Castiel, which makes Missouri focus on him. Castiel fidgets, picking at his fingernails. “No problem,” he says quietly.

Missouri frowns. “Don’t you lie to me. Lying solves nothing. Ignoring the problem solves nothing. So spit it out, child.”

Dean’s expression turns slightly smug, and that irritates Castiel enough that he finally snaps, “Dean cheated on me.”

Missouri raises her eyebrows before turning to Dean with a fierce glare, so Dean raises his hands. “Woah, woah, woah, I didn’t-”

“It doesn’t matter how you justify it, Dean,” Castiel cuts him off. “Whatever you tell yourself to make it okay, it doesn’t matter. It _feels_ like cheating. Even _Sam_ called it that. So I’m not fucking crazy or blowing it out of proportion, and honestly, maybe that’s the problem. I can’t get past you cheating on me, because everyone keeps telling me I’m wrong.” He sits up a little straighter, meeting Dean’s gaze and finding strength in the way Dean’s expression changes, rapidfire between sorrow and pain and concession, as if Dean is _finally_ listening. “Me asking you to wait wasn’t permission for you to sleep around. It wasn’t a suggestion that you should refine your _skills_ ,” and with the way Dean winces, Castiel must have made his disgust pretty clear. “It was a request that you give me time to deal with feelings that were complicated enough already.”

Dean swallows, rubbing his chin. “I know,” he says softly, when he realizes that Castiel is waiting for a response. “And I said I’m sorry-”

“But you kept giving me excuses!” Dean furrows his brow at this, and behind his head, Missouri gives Castiel an encouraging smile. “‘We weren’t together.’ You and Jo and Pam and even _Charlie_ kept feeding me that line, kept pressuring me to just forget and forgive, but I _can’t_!” And for some reason, he doesn’t feel weak anymore as soon as he says, “Not being officially together doesn’t change the fact that I was in love with you, and you not knowing how _much_ I loved you isn’t a good enough justification for you sleeping with someone else without my knowledge. You still knew I returned your feelings. That should have been enough.”

Dean looks crushed. His eyes are wide and his lower lip is trembling, and even though this makes Castiel feel a little guilty, mostly he feels relieved. He’s _finally_ spoken all the thoughts he hasn’t been able to get out, either because he didn’t understand them or because the situation didn’t give him the opportunity. And it feels _really good_ to finally get that weight off his chest. It makes him feel _strong_ to finally tell Dean how he’s felt, and to have Dean actually listen.

Maybe Anna and Charlie were onto something with that communication thing.

Missouri is still watching them closely, and she leans forward to put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Deep breaths,” she says. Her eyes dart to Castiel. “You too. Slowly. Inhale and exhale in four.”

Castiel doesn’t understand what that means, so he just follows Dean’s lead, even though Dean’s breaths are shaky. His hands are quaking too, and despite everything Castiel just said, he still places one of his hands steadily over Dean’s, and Dean manages a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “No excuses this time. I should have known better. And I swear-”

“It won’t happen again. I know.” Castiel sighs. “But you have to give me time to trust you again.”

Dean probably doesn’t meant to sound so resigned when he asks, “Time away?”

“No. Just… time.” Castiel shrugs, the movement bringing him a little closer to Dean. “You can’t heal a broken arm in a day, y’know?”

Dean takes a few more deep breaths, never removing his gaze from Castiel. Missouri stays silent, observing, gently rubbing Dean’s back the way Mary had once done for Castiel. “Time,” Dean says finally. “Like you and your mom need time.”

Castiel jerks back, can feel his eyes popping out of his head. “ _What_?”

But Dean is actually grinning, which is certainly a nice change from the broken expression he wore a few moments ago. “Your mom is trying to win you over, but you need time to accept that she’s changed.”

Was Dean awake that night, when Naomi gave them a blanket and caressed his hair?

Missouri is smiling too when Dean sits up straight, easing away from her touch. He smiles back at her, then turns back to Castiel. “You don’t trust your mom, and you don’t trust me. I get it now.” He rubs a hand over his mouth, then aims a charming grin at Missouri. “Trust issues. I don’t blame him, though.”

“I don’t either, if you were foolin’ around,” and Missouri manages to sound fond even as she rolls her eyes and frowns at Dean. “Not the kindest thing you’ve ever done.”

“No. And I don’t plan on doing anything like that ever again. Swear on my Mom.”

The world feels small and bright in this moment, and the future suddenly seems endless. There are a lot of things that Castiel is still unsure about, but for some reason, he just knows, deep in his bones, that Dean will be a constant presence in his life for a long time. It’s hard to hold a grudge in that case, especially when beyond his bones and into his heart, pumping through his bloodstream, is the knowledge that Dean means no harm, and the certainty that Dean will someday be a _good man_. And those are few and far between.

It’s stupid, probably, to give Dean yet another chance. But for the first time all summer, Castiel doesn’t feel weak when he looks at Dean. And when Dean looks back, summer green eyes glowing with adoration, he remembers that Dean would never _see_ him as weak, and would never use his weaknesses against him. He makes mistakes, but that’s an entirely different thing from the lifetime of control and masks and learning to lie that Castiel’s mother has put him through.

Dean’s not wrong about Castiel having trust issues. But Naomi has more to make up for than Dean does.

Castiel reaches over to grab Dean’s hand again, and their mirrored smiles are wide and natural.

It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But it’s a start.

**July 14th, 2008**

**To: Dean**   
**From: Castiel**   
**1:07pm**

**My brother is visiting.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**1:08pm**

**mike? ya i kno u told me**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**1:11pm**

**No, Gabe just showed up this morning. Out of nowhere.**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**1:12pm**

**idk what this means for you and me hanging out**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**1:15pm**

**I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you again if I don’t see you for a few days**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**1:16pm**

**just txt s/t ok? keep me n the loop :))**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**1:17pm**

**Ok. I love you.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**1:20pm**

**i know:))))**

**July 15th, 2008**

Castiel should’ve known better than to think he could escape Gabriel. Especially once Naomi started bringing up Dean.

Naomi’s descriptions of Dean are much kinder than they were a few years ago - she even uses the word ‘angelic’ at one point, which nearly sent Castiel into shock, much to Anna’s amusement. But she still doesn’t know how Dean broke Castiel’s heart back in 2006.

Gabriel does. And he’s not as forgiving as Anna.

So yesterday and this morning had held more than a few accusatory or annoyed glares in Castiel’s direction, which Castiel pointedly ignored. He’s not a skinny, sixteen year-old _kid_ anymore, and his relationship with Dean is no one else’s business. It’s bad enough dealing with Dean’s friends, particularly Jo, Victor, and Benny. Castiel doesn’t need this bullshit from his own family.

He had slipped out this afternoon while Anna was regaling the rest of their family with a story about who-cares-what, and headed for the resort’s private beach. The skies are gray and the wind is up, so it’s fairly quiet out here, which is a nice change. He’s thinking of texting Bela to join him when someone flops down in the sand next to him, and he groans.

“Can’t I get two seconds to myself?”

“Sexting your boyfriend can’t wait? C’mon, bro, you know there’s no privacy in this family.”

Castiel pulls his knees up to his chest, pouting as he watches the choppy water climb up and down the sand. This beach is clean, generally free of driftwood, but that only makes it feel fake. It’s not the beach unless you’re kicking seaweed from between your toes.

Gabriel makes a few distracting huffs next to him before finally shoving his shoulder, forcing Castiel to glare at him. “C’mon, I want to know what’s all this shit about Dean. Last I heard, you and Dean-o weren’t exactly simpatico.”

“That was almost two years ago. People change.” And Castiel knows, _he knows_ , that his mother made the same argument regarding her own new crusade for forgiveness and unity. But he sets that aside for now, something to confront later. “I really don’t need your help on this.”

Gabriel clutches his chest, gasping dramatically. “You wound me, Cassie! You don’t need your own _brother_?” he shouts, and Castiel would be embarrassed if there were any other people on this beach. Luckily, it’s just the two of them, so he settles for narrowing his eyes.

“You’re late to the party, Gabe,” he says, stretching his legs out, toes pointed towards the ocean. “I’m not telling this story _again_ , and I’m done caring what other people think about my relationship with Dean.” Now he rolls his shoulders, sighing as his muscles relax. “The past is the past, and I think I’m finally ready to start moving forward.”

Castiel pointedly avoids catching his brother’s gaze, while Gabriel stays surprisingly quiet. Castiel pulls his phone out of his back pocket and twirls it in his palm, debating whether or not to text Bela, maybe call and invite Dean over, but then Gabriel reaches over and puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

“Forgiving that kid is gonna be a little harder for me. He hurt my little brother. Understand?”

“Oh, I never said he was forgiven,” Castiel says, the corner of his lips turned up. “I said I wanted to move forward. Working towards forgiveness.”

“Fine.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You really think he’s worth another chance?”

Castiel smiles a little wider. He wants to tell Gabe what he realized the other day, how he was so happy he felt like bursting when they spent an hour or so just chatting with Missouri, and how proud he was when Dean escorted them both back up to his little studio and Missouri’s eyes got misty when she saw his ever-developing mural.

But this story is old. And not even just Castiel wasting so much of his summer going over every little pro and con, round and round like a carousel. Mistakes, redemption, forgiveness, it’s a tale older than time. And Castiel doesn’t owe his version to anyone.

“Yes,” Castiel says, confidence glowing from the slant of his shoulders and the pride in his eyes. “He is.”

Gabriel eyes him for another moment, then sighs, lifting his hands to the sky. “Alright then. You’re a big boy now, so I guess it’s your funeral.” When his hands drop, he’s smiling, but his eyes aren’t dancing when he adds, “I’m here for you, bro.”

Castiel huffs, running a hand through his wind-mussed hair. It occurs to him, then, that he’s spent so much time this summer worrying about Dean and Naomi, but no time at all thinking about school. Classes start in September, and he’s registered for his first semester, so he has a little time… but all his classes are basic. None of them have anything to do with his major.

He’s been too afraid to think about the future too much. The only thing he’s ever been able to imagine in his future is a life with Dean, but that’s always been in vague, drifting thoughts. It’s something real now, something with potential. But it’s Dean, who is so stubborn about not going to school or selling his paintings. If Castiel is serious, if they’re serious… Castiel needs to get his shit together. Even if Dean decides to commit to being a painter, Castiel will have to provide for them. He’s happy to do so, to support Dean’s dreams, it’s just… what does he want to do? How will he make that money?

“Gabe,” he says. “You studied marketing before you dropped out, right?”

Gabriel frowns, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. Wasn’t my thing, clearly, but it’s helped with getting the bakery started. Why?”

Castiel blinks out at the ocean before glancing at his brother. “Do you think I’d be any good at it?”

**July 16th, 2008**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**10:08am**

**can u hang 2day?**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**10:16am**

**Mom wants to go to Portland with us today, so probably not.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**10:18am**

**mom???????**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**10:20am**

**????? yes??? my mom????**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**10:21am**

**nvm ok 2 bad c ya round <3**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**10:25am**

**Is that your way of saying you love me? :)**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**10:45am**

**Dean?**

****  
  


**July 17th, 2008**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**11:30am**

**I miss you.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**12:13pm**

**im on break soon, wanna get lunch?**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**12:17pm**

**Gabe and Mike invited themselves to the Roadhouse with me. Your choice.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**12:30pm**

**they gonna be nice??**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**12:31pm**

**Gabe’s still mad about 2006. So no.**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**12:33pm**

**probably not a good idea 2day sry :(**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**12:34pm**

**I don’t blame you.**

****  
  


**July 18th, 2008**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:01pm**

**r u coming to batman tonight? & dont make plans 4 tmrw!!!**

**From: Castiel**   
**To: Dean**   
**3:05pm**

**Didn’t get tickets in time so no. Don’t have plans tomorrow though?**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:07pm**

**ok we’ll see it sm othr time & GOOD DONT MAKE ANY**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:07pm**

**DONT ASK Y - ALL WILL B REVEALED**

\-----

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:32am**

**cas i wanna tell u s/t**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:37am**

**just realized ur prob asleep**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:39am**

**ok but u shd kno i was never with aaron like with u**

**From: Dean**   
**To: Castiel**   
**3:42am**

**we never really cuddled or w/e dammit this is dumb**

\-----

**_One Missed Call_ 3:56am**   
_**Dean Winchester** _   
**Voicemail**

_I don’t even know why I’m thinking about this, but sometimes it’s hard to say this shit to your face. You just… with those eyes, and I can’t…. Ugh. I should be asleep, but I wanted to get this out before I forget how to say it. Aaron and I are friends. Even in bed, we’d just start joking around as soon as it was over, and we never held hands or… or cuddled or kissed or whatever. I never wanted to paint him like I want to paint you. Heh, he never brought me fuckin’ flowers. Comparing you and Aaron is like… comparing Lisa and Jo. Yeah I never slept with Jo, but the feelings are the same. If that… I hope that makes sense. I hope that doesn’t make things worse. Or it’s like… Um. Forget it. Forget I said anything, I’m beat. The movie was awesome, I’ll take you to see it soon, and… and I’ll see you tonight. I-I… I, um… yeah. See you._

**July 19th, 2008**

Something is going on. Not that Castiel can get anyone to tell him what, but he’s not stupid. His siblings have been in and out of the room all day, even though the older two have their own place. Anna keeps sending him strange little smiles whenever she’s in, and the last time he saw her, she told him, “I’ll be back for you in a bit.”

“What?” Castiel had said, but she was gone before he could press her for more information.

Gabriel has that know-it-all smirk on his face, every time he comes in, and Michael is practically glowing. His smile is so wide it makes him look eight years younger, and Castiel would think that that can only be a good thing, if they weren’t so keen on keeping him in the dark and ignoring all his questions.

It doesn’t really matter, he supposes. Dean had told him not to make plans, so whatever his siblings are up to, whatever they’re hiding from him, it’s going to have to wait until after his date. Which will probably be Dean narrating trivia in his ear while they watch the Dark Knight, followed by dinner at the Roadhouse. Maybe Jo, Charlie, and Pam will even join them.

Not a bad night.

It’s closing in on six-thirty, with no word from Dean, when Anna bursts through the door, a sheen of sweat on her skin. “Where are your clothes?” she asks, panting slightly.

“Uh. In the closet?”

Anna rolls her eyes. “Your _nice_ clothes. Didn’t you bring your-” she stops, then frantically shakes her hands next to her head. “Never mind. Never mind. I’ll pick something out, you take a shower.”

Castiel furrows his brow, squinting suspiciously at his sister. “Does this have to do with Dean-”

“Just go shower!” She waves her hands at him now, and when he doesn’t move, she descends upon him, pulling and pushing and threatening to get their mother from downstairs before Castiel finally relents and does as she asks.

While he scrubs down, he wonders what Dean could possibly be doing that requires so much help. It must be something good, because there’s no other way that Dean could’ve talked Gabriel into it. That said, it could be a prank. All three Miltons could be working together to pull something over on him, while Dean waits alone at the Roadhouse. Castiel hopes that, regardless of how Anna and Gabriel feel about what they know, they wouldn’t be that cruel.

But this feels like a Dean thing. Gabriel’s pranks are much more subtle, and he likes to work alone. Also, Anna might have been mad enough at Castiel to give him the cold shoulder for a little while, but she seemed almost happy to be able to have a conversation with him again after Jo’s birthday party.

Castiel takes the time to brush his teeth once he’s done, and is considering shaving when Anna pounds on the door, yelling at him to hurry up. He ties a towel around his waist before opening up, surprising her. “Do I need to shave?” he asks.

She raises an eyebrow. “No? You’re, like, a babyface.”

“I’m serious, it grows really-”

“You don’t have five-o-clock shadow yet, numbskull, you’re fine, and you’re late.” She grabs his wrist, tugging him across the hallway into the private bedroom, where a set of clothes is laid out across the bed. Castiel blinks, then turns to frown at Anna.

“Really? _That’s_ the outfit you chose?”

“Look, it pains me to say this, but you look really good in blue and white.” Anna moves like she wants to shove him again, but stops herself, making a face as she finally realizes he’s only wearing a towel. “Just put it on, okay? I haven’t heard from anybody yet so they’re probably running late too, but hurry up anyway, all right?”

With that, she turns to leave, shutting the door behind her. Castiel stares at the clothes again, and sighs. He had bought these clothes for graduation, and only brought them to Sileas in case he needed semi-formal clothes for more than one event. Now that he thinks about it, this choice confirms Dean’s involvement - Castiel wore parts of his prom outfit on their first date back in May. Anna had helped him put that together as well, and even though Dean wouldn’t care, Anna is the type who wouldn’t want Castiel to wear the same outfit twice.

So he gets dressed. Pale blue dress shirt, white slacks, and white tie. He has to open the door and get Anna to help him with his tie again, but he pulls away when she reaches up to fix his hair, and ignores her when she tries to get him to tuck in his shirt. This isn’t a cocktail party like the one Naomi is at right now, and it’s not a fancy dinner at the high-class restaurant downstairs. It’s _Dean_. Castiel doesn’t need to wear a mask or put on airs with Dean.  

Anna’s phone goes off while Castiel is staring in the entryway mirror, still wondering if he should go shave or not. She smiles when she sees the message, and says, “Okay, my work is done.” To Castiel’s surprise, she reaches over to hug him,  carefully ensuring that her sweaty, made-up face doesn’t touch his shirt. “Have fun. Play nice. Tell me all about it when you get back.”

“Okay,” Castiel says dumbly. She grins up at him before retreating to the couch and turning the TV on.

Seconds later, there’s a knock on the door. Castiel glances at his sister, but when she doesn’t respond, he takes it upon himself to answer.

On the other side is Dean, smiling shyly and fidgeting in his blazer. Castiel blinks, taking in the black dress pants and lavender tie, and maybe he is underdressed. Dean doesn’t seem to mind though, seeing as he visibly relaxes as his eyes wander down Castiel’s body.

“Well, hey,” Dean says, “look who cleans up nice.”

“I could say the same for you,” Castiel responds, smiling back. “What’s going on?”

Dean shakes his head, then makes a show of zipping his lips closed, gesturing down the hall. Castiel sighs, full of a fond sort of exasperation, and follows Dean out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Once they’re at the elevator, however, Dean presses the up button, and Castiel frowns. “We’re going to the roof?”

Dean grins. “What did you think I had everyone doing all day?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, you’ll like it, I promise.”

The elevator dings, and Castiel follows Dean inside before asking, “How did you get my siblings involved in this, anyway?”

“Anna was really excited about it.” Dean chuckles, sticking his hands in his pockets. Castiel can’t help staring at the picture he makes. He’s like a model, dressed so nice but posing so casual, and he doesn’t even realize it. “I just wanted her to let us in the building, but she was full of ideas, and I guess your brothers had trouble saying no to her.” He shrugs, turning to look at Castiel, whose stomach suddenly starts swooping. “They’re still up there, by the way.”

“Gabriel was nice to you?”

Dean scoffs. “I wouldn’t say nice. Civil, maybe. Mike made up for it though.”

“ _Mike_? You can’t mean Michael.”

The elevator dings again, and again, Dean leads the way out, down the hall towards the staircase. He pulls a hand out of his pocket to rest between Castiel’s shoulders, though, just a nice, warm connection, and Castiel catches himself smiling as Dean says, “Hell yeah! I think he’s feelin’ guilty. He was an absolute gentleman all day.”

Castiel smirks as they start up the stairs. “He’s trying to steal my man.”

A bark of laughter escapes from Dean’s mouth, echoing in the small space. He rubs Castiel’s back and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek before joking, “I’m not into older guys.”

He reaches for the doorknob, but Castiel stops him. Just for a second. Dean gives him a curious look, but something sparks in Castiel’s chest, and he pushes Dean up against the wall, kissing his mouth. Dean opens immediately, with a pleased hum, dropping his hands to the small of Castiel’s back to pull him even closer.

The kiss stays chaste at first, with only a little tongue and hands above the waist, and Castiel is surprised at himself when he realizes that this isn’t enough. He shifts, slotting his leg between Dean’s, and when Dean gasps, he takes the opportunity to make a possessive swipe at the roof of his mouth. Dean groans softly, and Castiel returns the sound when Dean’s hips jerk forward, but then Dean is pushing him away, holding him back at arm’s length. Castiel holds his hands up and out of the way while Dean takes a few breaths.

Finally, Dean laughs, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Dude, it’s cool if you’re ready to update your limits, but we should probably talk about them first.” He’s still grinning, running a hand through Castiel’s hair, so Castiel offers a hesitant smile in return. “I don’t want to take it further than you’re ready for.”

Why is it that Castiel just wants to _ravish_ Dean whenever he’s respectful of Castiel’s needs?

“Besides,” Dean continues, oblivious to the simmering heat in Castiel’s belly, “there’s a couple people waiting for us that I kind of want to make a good impression on. Rumpled jackets and sex stank ain’t gonna help me there.”

Castiel actually laughs at that, bumping his shoulder against Dean’s while they jimmy the door. When it swings open, they stumble onto the blacktop, and Castiel’s jaw drops.

The first thing he notices is the lights. Multi-colored fairy lights, draped everywhere. On the little wall that surrounds the rooftop, on the shade placed over a little table, on the shed they just emerged from. The sun is setting out on the ocean, but of course, this is Oregon, so there are clouds chasing the light away, making the hanging lights all the more magical. Castiel turns to Dean, confused, but Dean just grins, placing a gentle hand in the small of Castiel’s back to guide him towards the table. He snaps the fingers on his free hand, and that’s when Castiel notices his siblings, along with Jo and Benny. Michael and Gabriel are wearing matching grins, though the other two look a little less enthused.

“What is all this?” Castiel asks as his brothers approach, as Dean’s friends retrieve something from a large box.

Dean’s hand moves to the back of Castiel’s neck, holding him steady as he presses a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “Remember how you said you wished we could’ve gone to prom together?”

And just like that, the whole world falls away, and all Castiel knows is star-dusted freckles and summer green eyes and the way his heart swells and his veins buzz and his stomach lifts like he’s on a rollercoaster. Dean is glowing, pleased with his surprise, and he laughs into Castiel’s mouth when their lips meet.

Dean didn’t have to do this. He had forgiven Castiel without even thinking about it, and Castiel was already on the path to forgiving him as well. This is just Dean being _Dean_. Sweet and thoughtful and eager to please, and Castiel _adores_ him. He wants to give Dean _everything_ , he wants to ensure that Dean never has to struggle for money again, that he can just paint and be happy, and they can buy a house together and be comfortable, and maybe someday adopt kids, Dean would be _such_ a good dad-

“Alright, alright, I’m gonna be sick if you two don’t stop doing that.”

Castiel jerks away from Dean at the sound of Gabriel’s voice, his face heating up in embarrassment. Dean is still grinning, radiant in the fading sunlight, so Castiel takes it upon himself to look away, to take a few steps back. It’s hard to resist Dean in moments like this, and Castiel starts to realize that however much he _wants_ to give in to Dean, that urge that always makes him feel so weak… he can still pull away. He’s been doing so all summer. And that’s not weakness. It’s strength.

Despite that, here he is, standing on a rooftop at Dean’s little handmade prom, daydreaming about the future even though their past hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing. But, he thinks as he carefully threads his fingers through Dean’s, maybe that’s a kind of strength too.

Michael is giving them that million-watt smile he’s been wearing all day. Gabriel has his arms crossed over his chest and looks unimpressed, but Castiel can tell that it’s just being put on for show. “You guys actually helped him out?”

“He made us hang lights,” Gabriel answers, rolling his eyes. “His family must be crazy at Christmas, because I can’t believe he had this many.”

“It was fun,” Michael interjects, sending Gabriel a reprimanding look. “It sounded like a nice gesture, and I was glad for the opportunity to make things right with Dean.”

He sounds genuine, looking at Dean as he speaks, and Dean just waves the words away. “I told you, we’re good.” Gabriel opens his mouth to speak, but Michael quickly grabs his arm and starts dragging him away.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” He calls. Gabriel scowls, tearing out of Michael’s grasp, but all he does is turn his stink-eye on Dean and make a strange gesture with his fingers. An indication that he’s watching Dean. Dean just gives him the bird before Michael finally pulls Gabriel back into the shed.

Chicago is playing as Dean tugs at Castiel’s hand, leading him towards the table, which is now set with food and drinks. Jo sends Dean an irritated look as they sit down, and Dean tsks, waving a hand at her. “Fine, you can go.”

“Ugh, thank God,” she groans, tugging at the collar of her shirt, and that’s when Castiel realizes that both she and Benny are in white dress shirts, black slacks, and aprons. Like waiters. He can’t help laughing, shaking his head at Dean.

“You were really going for authenticity, huh?” When Dean shrugs bashfully, Castiel playfully bats at his arm. “Why not just take me to a real restaurant then?”

“Wanted to cook for you,” Dean actually mumbles, looking at his plate. It’s a pasta dish, and Castiel thinks he smells shrimp. “If you’d been here, been my date for prom, I probably would’ve cooked for you anyway.”

“So rude,” Jo teases, dropping her apron on the table. Benny is next to her, folding his apron up before he sets it aside. “I _was_ your prom date, but we just ended up getting pizza.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not in love with you, Joanna Beth,” Dean snaps. He makes a face at her when she pretends to be wounded, but Castiel just stares at Dean, wide-eyed. It’s not a declaration, _per se_ , but it’s more than Dean’s ever given him before, and he’s not sure what to do with it. Dean is blushing, poking at his food while Benny and Jo continue to hassle him, so Castiel thinks that pressing for more would be too much right now. Dean will give what he wants to give when he’s ready to do so.

“I do love your cooking,” Castiel says instead, picking up his own fork. Dean blushes darker, but at least he looks up and gives Castiel a shy smile. Jo giggles like there’s something funny about this, and Benny clears his throat.

“I think we oughta be headin’ out now,” he says. “You two behave.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jo shakes her hair out, pointing at Dean as she follows Benny to the shed. “And you owe me, Winchester.”

“Bull _shit_ , Harvelle, you know what this was about,” Dean yells after her, but she ignores him, following Benny down the stairs with a quick wave over her shoulder. Dean grumbles to himself, turning back to his food, and Castiel reaches over to put a hand on Dean’s wrist.

“Why make them waiters?”

Dean blinks, then laughs softly. “‘Cause they were assholes about you. I harassed them into it as a way of making up for that.”

Honestly, that probably isn’t the best way to make them open up to Castiel again, but the food smells amazing and Elvis is playing now, so Castiel opts not to think about it yet. Making up with Jo can come later, and he’ll probably live with Benny not trusting him, because Dean _does_. And that’s what really matters.

Dinner is delicious, of course. Dean regales Castiel with the story of how he’d managed to get the roof all set up and still cook dinner at the same time, and Castiel comes to understand how it took so many people all day to handle such a simple set up. Dean being in and out meant that there were a lot of misunderstandings and re-dos, especially with a natural leader like Michael being forced to take the passenger seat. Castiel asks why Charlie couldn’t help, but apparently she’s camping with her family for a few days, though Dean agrees that she could’ve helped keep things under control.

It’s actually a pleasant evening for once. There’s a gentle breeze coming off the ocean, bringing the smell of salt and sand, and it doesn’t become uncomfortably cold as the sky darkens and Dean pulls a couple slices of chocolate silk pie from a cooler. Conversation moves easily, joking about their families and friends, and Castiel teases Dean about the strange playlist he’s made for them.

“It’s not that weird,” Dean argues, gathering up their plates. When Castiel tries to help, he gets his hand slapped, so he slumps back in his chair and allows Dean to do the work. “This is really good music.”

“I’m not saying otherwise. It’s just… not what you’d hear at a prom.”

Dean rolls his eyes, setting the plates back in the box they came in, the wiping his hands on a stray napkin. “That’s what Jo said, and I told her, this is _my_ prom. _My_ prom isn’t gonna have any Freaky-frack at the Shakeshack playing.”

“That’s the weirdest Panic at the Disco nickname yet.”

“Thanks.”

“And they wouldn’t play at a prom anyway,” Castiel continues, looking up at Dean where he stands behind his chair. “They’re a rock band. Prom is going to be more… well, you know. Pop, I guess. At mine, they played Rihanna, Usher, Chris Brown…”

“I don’t know who any of those people are.” Castiel frowns at this, and Dean laughs as he leans down to press a kiss into Castiel’s hair. “I sold Jo on it by telling her it was vintage prom. These songs were probably played at school dances back in the day, right?”

The Beach Boys are fading away, so Castiel shrugs, conceding the point. “Probably. So that’s your theme? Vintage?”

“Theme? Oh. Sure, I guess?” The song changes then, something much older and slower, and Dean’s face lights up. “Come on, I want to dance to this one.”

It’s a doo-wop song, and though Castiel allows Dean to drag him out into the open space of the blacktop, it takes him a moment to recognize it. Castiel huffs, though it’s hard to suppress a smile when Dean puts a hand in the small of his back and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Is this because of my name?” Castiel asks, taking Dean’s other hand and allowing himself to be led in a circle. “Or Kyriel? Because it’s not funny.”

Dean purses his lips and shakes his head. “Hello? McFly?”

“What?”

“Oh Jeez. It’s from Back to the Future, Cas, just enjoy it.” And before Castiel can respond, Dean is pulling him closer, Castiel’s free hand slides up to Dean’s bicep, and now they’re just a couple of boys on a rooftop, but Dean hums along as he sways them back and forth, and Castiel catches himself blushing. He glances anywhere but at Dean’s face, embarrassed that those melty, adoring feelings are starting to pour back into his skin, warming it anywhere Dean is touching him. He tries to focus on the fairy lights, on the sun only just peeking over the horizon, on the choir of trees whispering on the other side, but it all comes together in a puzzle that lights him up from inside and writes Dean’s name on his heart.

 

[ ](http://i61.tinypic.com/oruvb9.png)

**(artwork by[thunderjellyfish](http://thunderjellyfish.tumblr.com) \- click for fullsize!)**

 

“‘ _I hope and pray that someday_ ,” Dean is singing under his breath when Castiel catches his gaze, and Castiel is pretty sure he saw something like this in a Disney movie once, but that thought is quickly dashed by the strange light in Dean’s eyes. Like the stars, like the galaxy of freckles dusted across his nose, focused and intense. Castiel’s heart skips a beat when Dean hums, “ _I’ll be the vision of your happiness_ ,” and spins him under his arm, pulling him close again as soon as possible. They’re nose to nose now, and all Castiel can think is that _of course_ Dean makes him happy, _of course_ he wants to make Dean happy, for them to make _each other_ happy, for the rest of their lives. He’s eighteen and stupid and heading off to college in Chicago but for the first time, Castiel is sure of what he wants. Damn the cliche, damn the romance. This, at least, he _knows_.

Dean’s breath is warm as he softly sings against Castiel’s cheek, “ _My darling dear, love you all the time_.” Castiel slides his hands around Dean’s neck, clenching his eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep his emotions at bay. Dean’s lips brush against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine, and Castiel wants to live inside this moment forever as the song ends, as Dean whispers in his ear, “ _I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you_.”

They are hopeless. The song fades out on a harmony, and Castiel lets himself cling to Dean for just a few more seconds, afraid of what will happen if he lets himself actually look at Dean, if he lets himself believe that Dean means those words. Dean’s hands rest in the small of his back, and Castiel catches himself pressing small, reverent kisses against Dean’s jaw. Maybe they don’t have to say anything. Of course Dean meant it. Of course he loves Castiel. And Castiel loves him.

The rest of it may be complicated, but that much is simple. And as long as they have this, that love that ties them together, maybe they can pull through the rest.

Castiel doesn’t even notice that another song has started playing until Dean’s hips start moving again, a much sharper, faster rhythm. Dean steps back out of his embrace, grinning so wide that Castiel almost doesn’t notice the red on the edges of his eyes. “I love this song,” Dean says, his voice raw, and this exaggerated, silly dancing is more what Castiel expects from Dean, so he lets the sentimentality slip away. He tucks their love away, somewhere he can cherish it privately… but leave it to Dean to tear that apart, to express himself in a multitude of ways and leave every second colored by every part of his personality.

Because Dean is twisting his whole body around now, pointing at Castiel and crooking his fingers, “ _Come and get your love_!” He’s shuffling forward, and now Castiel is laughing, trying to hide it behind his hand, but Dean feeds on the attention. “ _Come and get your love_!”

So Castiel does. Forget the baggage, forget college, forget the future. Just for tonight, this is all that matters.

\-----

It’s not quite midnight when they decide it’s time to pack it in. Dean decides to leave the fairy lights, but they tear down the crepe paper, take apart the shade and the table, and Dean protests when Castiel tries to help him carry everything back down to his car, but there’s no way Castiel is letting him clean up alone.

It’s half a joke and half not wanting to be apart when Castiel asks Dean to walk him back to his room. From the way Dean is blushing when he agrees, and the way his hand sits on Castiel’s back, it’s apparent that he recognizes this cliche as well. The good night kiss after an exceptionally memorable date. They’ve kissed tons of times - hell, they’ve touched each others dicks - but Castiel still feels a little giddy as they stand on opposite sides of the elevator, pretending not to watch each other.

“You’re an incredible person, Dean,” Castiel says, bumping their shoulders together as they walk down the hallway. Dean blushes bright pink, eyes locked on the floor.

“C’mon, Cas,” he mutters, but Castiel scoffs.

“No, _you_ come on. Do you think people put that much effort in for me every day? And I’ve been an _asshole_ to you this summer-”

“Cas, don’t-”

“No, Dean, I-”

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean barks, his hand moving to grip Castiel’s wrist. “Don’t ruin this by bringing up all that bullshit.”

He’s right. They’ve just had a beautiful evening together, something they’ll both remember forever. Dragging everything else into it, insisting on even more apologies, would just taint it. Tonight was a big step away from everything else - even the sweet little dates they went on before Castiel’s freak out weren’t like this. Those were a floaty sort of happiness, dancing on clouds while still afraid of falling.

Now, Castiel feels every step he takes, in sync with Dean. He is safe and secure on the ground, and if he does fall, it won’t be so far. Plus, Dean is there to catch him or help him stand upright again. This is better.

So, as they reach their destination, Castiel slips out of Dean’s hold and roughly pushes him against the wall next to the door. Dean blinks in surprise, held there by his shoulders, as Castiel leans in close and whispers, “Does this ruin it?”

Dean starts to speak, but cuts himself off with a gasp when Castiel presses up close, their torsos and hips slotted together. He wiggles slightly, but Castiel holds him firm, and that’s when Dean grins.

“Not the good night kiss I was expecting, but who am I to tell you no?”

“You can tell me no,” Castiel mumbles, his lips brushing the dip in Dean’s chin. “Anytime you want.”

“Good to know, but I kinda like it when you get all commandeering. So go for it, tiger.”

Castiel kisses the smile off his face, picking up where they left off earlier. Their teeth click together, and Castiel moves his hands to Dean’s jaw, trying to control the direction of the kiss. Dean hums and submits, allowing Castiel to lick into his mouth as his own hands slide down Castiel’s sides, finally resting low on his hips.

Hips start rolling, and Castiel pulls off Dean’s mouth with a gasp. “My mom is probably home,” he hisses, “you can’t send me in there with a boner.”

“My car is right downstairs,” Dean offers, laughing when Castiel frowns. “Kidding, kidding. But you started it, and this ain’t exactly slow.”

“I know.” Castiel steals a kiss, drags his lips over Dean’s cheek to nibble his ear, which makes Dean whimper and buck his hips forward. “I know, but I just…”

“Here,” and it’s Dean who finds the strength of mind to put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and gently push him away, putting space between them, but not so much that they can’t still touch each other. “Breathe.”

“Don’t be so nice, that makes it worse,” Castiel groans, rubbing his hands over his face while Dean laughs again. He takes the advice, though, breathing deeply before dropping his hands and shuffling forward to let his head fall onto Dean’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Dean’s arms wrap around his shoulders, an embrace that’s more about enjoying being close than attempting to get closer. Castiel sighs, nuzzling into Dean’s neck. He’s grateful for so many things: for Dean’s respect of his wishes, for Dean’s thoughtfulness in planning tonight, for Dean’s willingness to make nice with his brothers, for Dean being so quick to forgive while understanding that Castiel doesn’t have it so easy…

“I love you,” Castiel mumbles instead, wrapping his arms around Dean’s torso.

Dean squeezes him back and whispers, “I know.”

They’re allowed only a few seconds like this before Castiel hears a click, and a door being opened. He lifts his head to see Anna inconspicuously peering at them and wrinkling her nose. When Dean turns to look at her, she finally says, “I was expecting to find one of you on your knees, but this is almost worse.”

“ _Anael_!” comes Naomi’s voice from somewhere inside, making Anna flinch. Castiel flips his sister off anyway, and Dean giggles into his shoulder.

“She almost did,” he whispers, ducking away when Castiel tries to pinch him. They’re lucky enough to be at least a foot apart when Naomi appears behind Anna, and Castiel’s smile immediately drops. Dean and Naomi haven’t spoken since the first time they met, and even though Naomi had spared a pat to Dean’s head, that doesn’t mean she won’t say something offensive, or that she won’t misunderstand Dean’s sense of humor.

Especially because Dean does exactly what he did last time. He situates himself at Castiel’s side and gives her a charming grin. “Mrs. Milton. You’re looking lovely this evening.”

“Thank you,” Naomi responds with a polite nod. “You both make quite a handsome couple.”

Castiel grins despite himself when Dean elbows him in the ribs. “Yeah, well, I doubt Cas here had to try as hard as I did.”

“Please, have you ever even seen a mirror?” Castiel snaps, but Dean just beams at him.

“You callin’ me pretty?”

“Is Charlie a redhead?”

“Technically, no.”

“...Okay, but you know what I mean.”

Anna stage whispers, “They’re always like this,” to her mother, which earns a dirty look from Castiel. That’s how he catches the little smile on Naomi’s face before she admonishes Anna and shoos her away from the door.

“I trust you boys had a good evening?” Naomi continues. Small talk always was her forte, and Dean is kind enough to play along.

“Yes, ma’am. Your son is a wonderful dancer.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but this actually seems to please Naomi. She brightens, as if she had been the one Dean was complimenting, and says, “Would you like another opportunity to dance?”

Dean blinks, taken aback. “Um… I guess?”

“My son Lucifer is coming to visit us soon.” Castiel raises his eyebrows; this is news to him. “It will be the first time in three years that my children have all been in the same room. We’ll be having dinner downstairs, and I would be delighted if you would join us.”

Dean tenses immediately, his charming bravado gone. Castiel quickly grabs his hand and squeezes, offering an encouraging smile. “I’m not sure if, um…” Dean is blushing, staring at his shoes. “If I, uh, have nice enough clothes for that place.”

A little piece of Castiel’s heart breaks, because Dean isn’t wrong. The restaurant downstairs is elegant and expensive; his mother has always worn gowns and his father would have to trim his beard or shave it entirely before putting on a tuxedo. Castiel had eaten there last year with Meg, and despite Meg’s protests, Naomi had managed to get her hair tamed and her body zipped into a long red dress with lace sleeves. The sports jacket and dress pants Dean is wearing now might be the nicest things he owns, and they’re not fitted properly, nor are they even the same shade of black.

Naomi appraises Dean, probably noticing the same flaws Castiel now has, before suggesting, “Perhaps your father can lend you something?”

Castiel cringes, but Dean just smiles wryly. “He’d have to ship it out from Kansas, if he did, ma’am.”

A consummate professional, Naomi takes this information in stride. “Then we can loan you something. I have four boys, surely we can put something together that will fit you.” When Dean just stares at her in confusion, she sighs. “I have behaved poorly in the past. Since Castiel seems to think that there is…” She pauses, then waves her hands between the boys, “a future here, I would like to try and make up for that indiscretion.”

Dean glances at Castiel, who shrugs. Naomi has been consistent and vocal about making things right with her children all summer long, and although Castiel still isn’t sure he trusts her motives, he can’t think of a reason for Dean to say no. “It’s up to you,” Castiel says quietly. Dean huffs and runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m gonna start working nights at the bar pretty soon,” he says, “but if we can do it on a night I’m off, then okay.” He smiles, and it’s shaky, but not insincere. “I’d like that, ma’am.”

Naomi’s smile is broader, and she nods at him. “Thank you, Dean. I’ll have Castiel inform you when we have more details. Now.” She glances back into the hotel room before sternly announcing, “It’s late, and I suppose you have a family you need to get home to.”

Castiel frowns, but Dean chuckles, raising his hands up. “Alright, alright. I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He steals one last kiss from Castiel’s still-pouting lips and whispers, “I’ll call you,” before waving at Naomi and heading off down the hall, whistling a cheerful tune. It’s only when he turns the corner for the elevators that Castiel recognizes it as ‘Come And Get Your Love’, and he smiles despite himself, allowing Naomi to usher him back into the hotel room.

“You didn’t wear a jacket,” she chides as soon as the door is closed. Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Anna picked my outfit, so blame her,” he whispers back, loosening his tie and starting to pull it over his head. Naomi stays quiet, thoughtful, as Castiel starts to unbutton his dress shirt.

“Dean works at a bar?” she says in a small voice. Well, smaller than Castiel’s ever heard. He shrugs, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s mainly a mechanic, but I guess it’s still not enough.”

“I thought you said he was an artist.”

“He is.” Castiel sighs, shaking his head. “But he won’t sell his work. Even if he did, he probably wouldn’t make much.”

Naomi hesitates. “What does a boy his age need to work two jobs for?”

It’s a good question, and one Castiel doesn’t feel like going into right now. He doubts his mother would understand all the various issues in Dean’s head, and it would take too long to explain them. Also, there are several parts of Castiel’s history with Dean that he would prefer not to share with his family. The ground there is shaky enough as it is.

“His mom works three jobs and still struggles, so Dean helps her out,” Castiel answers simply. “Not every family brings in hundreds of thousands of dollars every month.”

“You don’t know what this family makes,” Naomi chastises him, frowning. Castiel just shrugs.

“Point still stands.”

Naomi tightens her jaw, taking a deep breath through her nose. Castiel waits, patiently, for her to start talking about how easy it is to go to college and pull oneself up by their bootstraps… but the speech never comes. She simply takes a few more deep breaths before putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You’ve had a long night,” she says. “I’m sure you’re tired. Make sure you hang your clothes up before you go to bed.”

She smiles slightly at the confusion on Castiel’s face, then makes her way to the bathroom. As soon as he hears the shower come on, Anna pops up from the couch, making Castiel jump and swear.

“You were there the whole time?” he accuses, approaching her. Anna scoffs.

“Where the hell else would I be? You’re the only one with a private bed.” She shuffles up anyway, twisting around until she can lean in close to her brother, smiling brightly. “I _need_ you to tell me everything.”

“Not happening,” Castiel says, waving her off as he heads for his room. Behind him, Anna whines something about living vicariously through him, to which Castiel can only roll his eyes and slam his door shut behind him.

In the quiet, as Castiel finishes undressing, he replays the evening in his head. It helps to soothe the tension out of his shoulders, and by the time he collapses into bed, he’s smiling at the memory of Dean holding him close and singing about love in his ear. Within moments, he’s asleep. Dreaming about a Victorian-style home with a fireplace, Dean’s paintings on every wall, and a hardwood floor where he and Dean can relive that dance whenever they like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter makes up for last chapter's mess. I originally wrote out a long note explaining some things but I think I'll leave it at this: last chapter was originally supposed to end with the scene on Dean's porch. I think my intentions would have been clearer if I'd carried through with that. From now on, I'm just going to stick to the plan, regardless of how long it takes. 
> 
> Next chapter is mostly just tying up a few loose ends, so hopefully it won't take too long, and then it's time for part five. Can you believe it? We're halfway done! Part five will probably be a lot more like this chapter, lol, so even though I'm not the biggest fan of fluff, I am looking forward to a nice break before part six destroys everything. I hope you guys are too - it'll be a nice change, I think.
> 
> I missed the year anniversary of when I started posting this story, so I want to thank those of you have stuck around this long, or at least those who have been around a while, haha. I wanted to do something special, but I'm always bad at thinking of stuff like that, plus the date came and went before I realized it. Is there anything you'd like to see? You can say so in a comment or send me a message at [my tumblr](http://vintagenoise.co.vu)! I could do short interludes or alternate POVs or something like that. Just let me know!
> 
> Thanks to all of you, new and old, for giving this story a shot. I hope you're all around to see the end someday - it's getting closer all the time!


	5. Hope & Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously i am incredibly sorry about the ridiculous delay! i want to assure you that i never stopped thinking about this fic or feeling guilty for keeping everyone waiting. things happened that were beyond my control and made it difficult to work on the fic - more info is at the end notes. i want to thank [fievelthefruitcakemouse](http://fievelthefruitcakemouse.tumblr.com) and [aprettygirlandpie](http://aprettygirlandpie.tumblr.com) for helping me wrangle this beast into submission - i ended up re-writing and re-arranging almost the entire thing and they were both very helpful and gave me wonderful new insights. i ended up opting out of a beta this time since i've read and re-read and re-worked this thing so many times, but i do apologize if there's any choppiness, because this was written over such a long period of time. i still have my own complaints about it, but i hope that somebody out there still enjoys it anyway.
> 
> ack, i almost forgot! i finally started working on a 'road so far' sort of thing for this fic - it was requested ages ago, but with the incredibly long wait between last chapter and this one, i finally got around to putting one together. you can find it **[here!](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lYssE5dRmG5DylQvSGIG7TwVHQ4dsn98AzLRersq4TU/edit?usp=sharing)** i haven't finished the summary for part four yet, but i'm hoping to get that done by the end of the week. i hope it's helpful!

_Try not to mistake what you have with what you hate_ __  
_It could leave, it could leave come the morning_ __  
_Celebrate the night, it’s the fall before the climb_ __  
_Shall we sing, shall we sing ‘til the morning?_ __  
**C’mon** , Fun. and Panic! at the Disco

  
  


**July 22nd, 2008**

It’s lucky that Miltons are stoic by default, or Castiel is sure that his mother would have wept when Lucifer’s taxi pulled up this morning, and all five of her children were circled around her. Naomi smiled wide then and is still smiling now, while Anna is smushed on the couch, two brothers on each side, everyone chatting and arguing like the old days. Back when they were all in school, before Michael was upgraded to parent and nanny, before everything exploded. 

Now they’re picking up the pieces, and Castiel realizes that he’s smiling just like his mother. That’s okay. It’s been a long time since everything felt this good. 

Lucifer is telling a rather over-the-top story about the club he works for in Miami, when Castiel feels a buzz in his back pocket. Assuming it’s Dean, he pulls his phone out and hits the answer button without looking at the screen. “Good, I was gonna call to ask what size shoe you wear. Michael and I both have extra pairs, and we thought-” He cuts himself off when he hears a low chuckle that is definitely not Dean.

“Darling, you should know size doesn’t matter.”

“Balthazar?” Castiel pulls his phone away from his ear to stare at it, dumbfounded, then quietly excuses himself to go to his room. Lucifer looks a little put out, but Michael makes a shoo-ing gesture, so Castiel closes the door behind him, then leans up against it. “You never call me outside of school.”

“Ah, yes, my summer in France has been absolutely thrilling, Cassie, how have you been?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I’m actually pretty great. What can I do for you?”

“Whatever you’re up for,” Balthazar practically purrs. When Castiel doesn’t respond, he continues as if he hadn’t said anything:“You’re attending Northwestern in the fall, yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you know anything about your living arrangements yet?”

Castiel hesitates. He’d planned on living just off-campus, perhaps with a roommate, since that seemed like the easiest way to go about doing things, but he’s wary about having to live with a total stranger for nine months, so he put off thinking about it. At least his prep school taught first through twelfth grades, so once he started boarding in sixth grade, it was with people he had already known as long as he could remember. A private place sounded nice, but he hadn’t gotten around to discussing it with his mother yet. “I’m not committed to anything. Why?”

“Listen, love, I’ll be frank.” Castiel has to smile at that, because when has Balthazar ever been anything but? “I’m attending University of Illinois at Chicago, and we both know that college will be filled with brand new opportunities, and I thought we could experience some of those together.”

Castiel frowns. That’s not as frank as he was expecting. “What do you mean?”

“Experimentation, Cassie!” Balthazar is practically gushing. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been curious about boys, I know that’s why you and dear, sweet Megan never got it on. I’m offering you a bed to sleep in and a warm body to share it with. I’ll even buy you dinner sometimes, if you want to be a romantic about it.”

Castiel opens his mouth, but no words come out. It feels like his brain has shut off, needing to reboot in order to process what Balthazar is saying. His throat clicks, voice stuttering as he tries to piece this offer together. Balthazar, one of his oldest friends, wants to… sleep with him. Have sex with him? But, if Balthazar has picked up on Castiel’s interest in men, how has he not considered Dean’s role in Castiel’s life? All those pictures Dean sent were hung up on the wall next to Castiel’s bunk, even during the year they weren’t speaking, so how could Balthazar miss that? Not to mention they’ve shared a room for _years_ , and Balthazar never even thought to _mention_ being attracted to Castiel? 

“So you’re offering me… sex?” Castiel finally manages to say. His eyes turn skyward, silently praying that none of his family members are listening outside the door.

“It’s best to start with someone you know, right?” Balthazar hums softly, and there’s a clinking noise in the background. “Then, of course, if you decide it’s not to your tastes, you can still have your own room and play as much as you like.”

Castiel actually pulls his phone away from his ear and uses his free hand to muffle a frustrated noise. What is  _ wrong _ with him, that everyone else seems so comfortable having sex without any sort of attachment? Why can’t Castiel feel that way? 

Maybe it’s just a matter of working through it. Castiel never really felt a sexual attraction to Meg, but he always thought the potential was there, and maybe if he had just gathered up his courage and taken the leap… or maybe he really is gay. Maybe it’s just girls. Maybe he  _ could _ have sex with Balthazar. They’ve known each other since they were children, became fairly close as roommates and teammates. Castiel takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he tries to imagine the two of them in bed together. It’s not as pretty or comfortable or easy as Dean…  _ obviously _ not as easy as Dean, who barely has to work for it. There’s no arousal at the image, but there’s no discomfort either. So. Maybe.

_ Wait _ . 

Why is he even thinking about this if he wants to start a relationship with Dean? 

_ Does _ he want to start a relationship with Dean? They’re in love, and the last few weeks have been a wonderful little bubble of happiness, but in little more than a month, Castiel will be starting college. In Chicago. Over two-thousand miles away. And all things considered, Castiel really doesn’t have a lot of experience with sex or relationships. Dean has had the chance to try both, and Castiel doesn’t want to be a disappointment, or to ruin things just because he doesn’t know how anything works.

“Are you still there?” Balthazar is saying when Castiel puts the phone back to his ear. It sounds like his mouth is full, and Castiel sighs.

“Can I think about it?” He asks. 

There’s a pause before Balthazar responds, “Of course, Cassie. Just give me a ring once you’ve decided, alright?”

“Alright.” Another longer, awkward pause. Balthazar clears his throat. 

“For the record, Cassie, you don’t have to fuck me to share the townhouse. You’re welcome to live here either way.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, and some remaining tension he hadn’t even noticed flows out of his shoulders. “I appreciate that. But I still need to think about it.”

Balthazar hesitates, and the silence is full, like there’s something he wants to say. Eventually he just sighs. “Alright. I’ll talk to you later-”

“Thanks for calling, Bal,” Castiel says sincerely. “ I guess I’ll see you when I get to Chicago?”

“Of course, love!” Balthazar laughs, like this strange conversation never even happened. Maybe that’s why they’re friends. “Talk soon, ciao.” 

Castiel’s phone beeps as the call ends, and he tucks it back in his pocket before heading back into the living area. Everyone is gathered around Gabriel now, as he cheerfully flips through a pile of photos. Naomi looks less than amused, unlike her children, so she’s the one who glances up when Castiel reenters, and gives him a small smile. He stops in the hallway, considering, then inclines his head toward the kitchenette. Naomi lifts an eyebrow, nods, and follows. 

“Balthazar wants me to share a townhouse with him in Chicago,” Castiel whispers, leaning on the island. Naomi has to lean in close to hear him, and she hums thoughtfully.

“Your old roommate? His mother is that French actress, isn’t she?” Naomi leans in closer, blue eyes bright. “I’m happy to help you pay rent if that’s what you’d like.”

Castiel shifts back, studying her. He believes that she really is trying, and he’s willing to give her a chance, but some habits die hard. She hasn’t really shown any signs of liking Dean yet, and she was very clear about her belief that someone of their own station would be a better match. Castiel opts not to mention Balthazar’s more personal offer; however much of a chance he gives her, he doubts they’ll ever be close enough for that kind of conversation. 

Naomi must notice his aversion to her response, because she suddenly adds, “I had been planning on offering you a private apartment near campus, but we would have to leave Sileas early to find the right place.” She tilts her head and meets his eyes. “Considering everything with Dean, I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject.”

Castiel frowns. “When would we have to leave?”

“Probably by the first weekend of August. At the latest. It would give us a few weeks to find a vacant place and get you settled in.”

Leaving Dean early is certainly a detractor, especially since it’s taken so long for them to finally get their feet under them. Balthazar had said that the room was available, even if Castiel didn’t want to attempt a sexual relationship (Romantic? Balthazar had offered to buy him dinner, but Castiel can’t suss out if that was a joke or not), so for a moment he considers just accepting the offer, and staying in Sileas a few more weeks, enjoying the time he has with Dean while he can. 

But a private apartment would be nice, too. 

His first thought is of all the new people he’ll meet on campus, and how much simpler it would be to entertain them if he had his own space. Little get-togethers for his new track team, hosting a meeting for the LGBT club… and okay.  _ Maybe _ he wants  _ options _ . He’s eighteen. He’s a virgin. He loves Dean, he  _ knows _ he does, because his heart is screaming it over and over as he considers the opportunities, but Dean loves him, and Dean still slept with Aaron. Right? Castiel has so far never felt the urge to sleep with someone except for Dean, but that doesn’t mean he  _ can’t _ . 

Right? 

Either way, he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t at least bring this up to Dean before he decides. Even rooming with Balthazar would give him ample opportunities, so it’ll be worth it to discuss all of this with Dean and figure out where the lines are drawn and what they both need while they’re apart.

“I’ll talk to Dean about it,” Castiel says with a nod, pushing away from the island. Naomi squints at him.

“You’d let  _ him _ decide-”

“No,  _ I’ll _ decide,” Castiel is quick to correct. “But he’s my boyfriend.” They haven’t decided to use that term yet, but Castiel thinks it’s the easiest way to make his mother understand. And, because he’s a jerk, he does get a little sliver of glee from the way her face falls at the word. “If I’m going to be living with another guy, I think Dean deserves to have a say in that.”

Naomi tightens her jaw. “Is Balthazar a threat to Dean?” Her voice is louder than Castiel would like, and he glances over his shoulder at his siblings. They’re still giggling over Gabriel’s pictures, but there’s a stiffness to Anna’s shoulders, and Michael’s laughter is just a little too loud. Naomi’s eyes dart towards the little group in the living room as well, and she sighs softly. “If you care for Dean, then Balthazar is not a threat. You are not that kind of person, Castiel, and I would hope Dean would know that.”

Castiel isn’t the type to cheat, she means. He’s not deceitful, or at the mercy of his own base desires. He should take it as a compliment, but instead the words sit heavy in his stomach like a stone. Because he’s actually considering making Dean wait even longer, in the hopes that Castiel can play around at college and figure himself out. 

It’s still true, though, isn’t it? Back when Castiel first found out about Aaron, he had asked why Dean hadn’t at least spoken to him about it. It hurts that Dean didn’t wait, but in the end, Castiel was angry about being lied to. That Dean went behind his back. Castiel wouldn’t do that. If he and Dean sit down, and Dean asks for monogamy, Castiel will comply. He’s not opposed to the idea. In fact, he wants that too. He’s just not sure he wants it  _ right now _ , and considering everything with Aaron, he’s not sure Dean really wants it either. 

“I need to talk to Dean,” Castiel says firmly. Naomi lifts her chin and assesses him, but her expression remains impassive. 

“All right,” she says. “But remember, there is a time limit.”

“Of course,” Castiel responds. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve decided.”

Without another word, he pushes away from the counter, and goes to join his siblings. Anna glances at him when he sits next to her, worry in her eyes, but Castiel just gives her a small smile and rests his chin in his hand. He’ll talk to Dean when he’s ready. Not sooner, and certainly not with anyone else. 

It’s past time for everyone else to butt out of their relationship anyway.

 

**July 25th, 2008**

Life is full of surprises.

It was just supposed to be a nice day spent in Portland. Charlie and Bela had invited Castiel and Anna, and when Dean couldn’t get the day off, Sam volunteered to join them too. Castiel misses Dean, but he hasn’t had the chance to spend much time with Bela as he’d like, and honestly, after Sam had taken his side in the Aaron debacle, Castiel would like to spend more time with Dean’s brother as well. After all, if it wasn’t for Sam, Castiel and Dean might never have met in the first place.

They take Bela’s father’s rental, since Charlie’s Volkswagon is too small to hold everyone, and even though Castiel is squished between Anna and Sam in the backseat, he doesn’t begrudge Bela’s preferential treatment of Charlie, and everyone is getting along so well that the drive seems to take no time at all.

After hunting down a parking space, they enjoy the change of scenery by wandering around the downtown area, going into any shop that looks interesting. Castiel eyes Brooks Brothers for a moment, wondering if he could buy Dean a nice suit as a surprise, but decides that it wouldn’t go over well. Besides, when he mentions the idea to Bela, she snorts and reminds him that Dean would have to be here for a fitting anyway, and Castiel can’t imagine that being received well either. 

He does want to buy Dean a gift, though. It’s not really in his nature to make grand romantic gestures like the surprise prom, nor is he a talented artist, so as far as surprises and presents go, Dean has the higher score by far. That’s not right. Castiel knows that he’s still learning how to speak the language of Dean’s heart, and that mastering it will make it easier to keep their relationship going once they’re apart; material gifts and grand gestures are clearly part of that language. 

But, the more Castiel window-shops and thinks about it, the more he realizes that Dean is incredibly difficult to shop for. So when Charlie stumbles upon a New Age shop and excitedly demands they go poke around, Castiel supposes that it’s as good a place as any to buy a gift. Dean’s not a superstitious, New Age-y guy, but a book on relaxation techniques would be useful, and at the very least, a little necklace or bracelet will say that Castiel was thinking about him.

He’s eyeing a selection of chains and charms when Charlie taps him on the shoulder. “You hungry?”

Castiel considers it. “Not yet. I might buy something here, so if you guys want to eat you can go ahead.”

She tilts her head, glancing at the front window. Bela is already outside, apparently unimpressed by the store’s selection. Anna and Sam are browsing through the books near the register, but Castiel doubts they’ll actually buy anything. “Okay,” Charlie says, giving up a smile. “We’ll find somewhere nearby and let you know where. Text us when you leave here?” She surprises him with a brief but warm hug. “We don’t wanna lose you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Castiel insists, dumbfounded by her concern. Charlie pokes a finger in his chest, a playful warning in her eyes, then turns to collect Sam and Anna before joining Bela outside. Bela looks back at Castiel, and flips him off when he waves cheekily at her. A moment later, they’re gone, and Castiel turns back to the charms.

He’s found a chain he likes, small and silver, but the charms are harder to choose from. There’s a guide next to the display, telling him what each symbol means, but Castiel doubts Dean would be impressed by an ankh or an om. 

He’s eyeing a line of zodiac symbols, looking for Aquarian waves, when something else catches his attention. It looks like a pentacle, only the outer circle is ringed in solar flames. It’s not something he’s familiar with, so he takes it off the display for closer study. The charm is silver, laid out on a small piece of black leather, which clips perfectly into the chain Castiel chose. It’s a strange choice, but the more he looks at it, the more he thinks Dean might like it. Maybe he’ll even wear it. 

Castiel looks back at the guide, trying to find this symbol so he can at least explain what it’s for. Hopefully it’s something with actual meaning, and not some vague bit like eternity, or closeness to God.

“That symbol is for protection, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Castiel jumps and turns, but his surprise at the voice is no match for his shock when he sees the girl it belongs to.

“Lisa?”

Her bright smile starts to fade as she finally takes a look at his face, and her cheeks flush dark red. “Cas?” She clutches at the bag around her shoulder, glancing at the door behind her. “I didn’t recognize you,” she says. “You’ve grown.” She swallows, her eyes trailing down his legs before darting back up to his face. “A lot.”

Castiel can’t say the same for her. She looks exactly as he remembers: thick, dark hair braided with orange ribbon, and a pearl-white dress contrasting against her tanned skin. She’s still beautiful, soulful brown eyes and graceful movements, and Castiel ducks his head, remembering the last time he saw her. She was drunk and disheveled and dragging Dean back out to one of Alastair’s parties. She had broken up with Dean the next morning, and Dean had blamed Castiel, and, well... 

The rest, Castiel would rather not think about.

Lisa fidgets on her feet, maybe thinking of that same night on the beach, then clears her throat. “Well, it’s good to see you, but I’m off the clock now, so…” She lifts a hand up in a stiff wave, giving him a strained smile. “Bye!”

“Wait!” Castiel reaches out to grab her wrist, and she scowls at him, trying to tug free. “Wait, please, can’t… can I buy you a coffee or something? I… we should…” Should what? Talk? That’s a laugh; Castiel had promised her once that there was no chance of Dean ever returning Castiel’s feelings, and look at them now. Dean probably treats Castiel better than he treated Lisa. No, he definitely does; he’s not distracted by booze and Alastair anymore, and he’s not confused by strange feelings for someone else. 

Thank God.

A really inconvenient epiphany strikes him just then: Dean might be treating Castiel better because he learned from his mistakes with Lisa. Lisa’s pain has led to Castiel’s joy.

Castiel bites the inside of his cheek and loosens his grip on Lisa’s wrist. She frowns and shakes him off, but to his surprise, she doesn’t leave. “We should ‘talk,’ right? About what?” She laughs bitterly, shaking her her head. “I seriously doubt we have anything useful to say to each other.”

And yet, they stand there, still as stone. Castiel isn’t sure what it is she wants to hear, but she’s apparently sizing him up, her eyes still coasting up and down his body. “You were right about Dean and me,” Castiel offers quietly, hoping that a confession is what she’s looking for. “It took a while, a  _ long _ while, but he is…”

“In love with you.” Lisa rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Unfortunately, I’m out of confetti, so I can’t celebrate for you.” 

Castiel blinks at her, surprised. She notices his expression, and almost like cutting a rope, the tension rushes out of her shoulders, and her eyes become tired. He hadn’t noticed the bags under her eyes until now, as she pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a few deep breaths. “Listen, I’m sorry, but can we raincheck this conversation? I have somewhere to be.”

Castiel hesitates, weighing his options. “If I have to come back here to see you,” he says slowly, “ then I’m bringing Dean.”

He’s actually not sure how he expected her to react to that, but she visibly freezes, and some of the color drains from her face. She stands still for a long moment, chewing on her lower lip, before she quietly asks, “How is Dean?”

“Better,” Castiel answers honestly. He can’t help it if he sounds a little proud, too. “Much better. The court assigned him to therapy and he doesn’t drink anymore, and he makes the most  _ beautiful _ artwork…” He trails off with a sigh, and hopes he doesn’t sound like a lovesick puppy, even as he finishes: “I’ve never seen him this happy.”

It’s a long time before Lisa smiles sadly and says, “Because of you?”

Castiel ducks his head, blushing as he picks at his fingernails. “No, no, I mean, I think it’s mostly his therapist and his paintings and-”

“And  _ you _ .” She frowns outright, crossing her arms again. “Don’t try to bullshit me. He was  _ always _ happier with you.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel hisses. “Don’t… He loved you too-”

“Oh,  _ God _ .” Lisa rubs her hands over her face as she groans, then pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Okay, fine, let’s talk. I need to send out a text real quick, then we can go get some tea across the street.” She points at him before turning to the door. “But you’re paying.”

“Of course.” Castiel sticks his hands in his pockets, hurrying to follow her. “Of course, that’s no problem-”

But she’s not listening. She’s focused on her phone, tapping out a text, tension making her neck and shoulders tight like a drum skin. Castiel watches as the phone buzzes in her hand, and she checks the response, sighs, and tucks it away in her shoulder bag. She doesn’t speak as they’re waiting at the crosswalk, so Castiel hesitantly asks, “Letting your mom know where you are?”

Lisa glances at him without really moving. “Sure. Yeah.” She sighs again, and leads the way across the street when the light changes. “After everything that happened, she tends to worry.”

It feels like a dig, and Castiel lowers his head, unsure of how to respond. This is easily the most awkward situation he’s ever been in. Lisa hadn’t been too fond of him that summer they’d met, and for good reason, all things considered. She probably thinks Castiel was lying to her, way back when he’d talked her into giving Dean one more chance, even though his intentions were pure. He genuinely believed that Dean was straight, and really had only wanted him to be happy. 

He frowns to himself, thinking back: Lisa  _ had _ made Dean happy. If Castiel does, then she certainly did too. Dean had adored her, brought her into his group of friends, tried to show her his darker side at Alastair’s parties… and what? What had she done? He can’t remember, but he knows that Dean continued to call him in times of need. Even when Lisa was right there with Dean, he had called Castiel for help. 

Hadn’t Castiel asked him about that once? He can’t remember if Dean ever answered.

Lisa leads the way to an enclosed patio, and into a tiny tea shop. It’s an odd place, shelves full of cans of loose leaf teas, and the pink-haired girl behind the counter seems to know exactly where to find what Lisa asks for, even though none of the cans are labeled. Lisa looks at Castiel expectantly, and he sputters, declining an order. To his surprise, Lisa rolls her eyes and orders something for him as he pulls out his wallet.

“I don’t need-” Castiel starts, but shuts his mouth with an almost audible snap when Lisa turns to him with a glare that’s eerily reminiscent of his mother. He quietly hands over a bill, accepting his change while Lisa grabs both cups and leads the way back to the patio. 

Lisa chooses a table near the gate, sets the cups down, and takes her phone out, resting it next to her drink. She takes a seat and starts sipping at her tea, eyeing Castiel as he awkwardly follows her lead. “So Dean is doing okay?” she asks casually, getting straight to the point. 

“... Yes,” Castiel answers, ignoring his own drink in favor of studying Lisa’s expression, trying to figure out what she’s really after here. “He’s making new friends all the time. He doesn’t drink, or party. He works full time with Bobby, and I think he just started at the Roadhouse, too.”

“No college?” Lisa raises her eyebrows, taking another sip of tea. “He’s still drawing, right?”

“He paints, mostly. His murals are remarkable, and he’s really branching out stylistically.” It takes a lot for Castiel to keep from gushing over Dean’s talent, but the corner of Lisa’s mouth quirks up, so maybe he doesn’t hide his pride very well after all. He blushes, taking a long drink mostly just to distract himself before he changes the subject: “He’ll want to know if you’re okay.” Castiel takes a deep breath, staring down into his cup. “I know he wants to apologize to you.”

Lisa huffs, leaning back in her chair. “I guess I’m over it. Well. Not really,” she chuckles. “But I’m fine. My mom is helping me out, my stepmom gave me that job at her store, and I’m starting community college in the fall. Business.” She smiles again, and Castiel has always thought she was beautiful, that Dean has good taste in partners, because even a small smile like that seems to light up her entire face. Her eyes get a little distant, looking past him as she continues, “I want to open my own place. Like my stepmom. There’s lots of opportunities for that here.”

“Your stepmom?” Castiel asks innocently. “She owns that place?”

“Yeah.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “Does really good business with the local Wiccans. Nice people.”

“So your dad moved here too?”

She stiffens suddenly, her smile fading away into an expression that’s almost resigned. Castiel is about to apologize for prying when she quietly says, “My dad moved to Salem. I visit when I can. My stepmom is…” She hesitates, blowing a raspberry with her lips as she thinks. “Married, I guess. As good as married. To my mom.”

Castiel frowns briefly, before he remembers what Lisa had told him two years ago, about why she lived with her dad. How her mother had cheated on him, declared that she was in love with both her husband and her lover, and Lisa’s father decided he didn’t want to be involved in that sort of relationship. 

But Lisa had never mentioned that the lover was another woman.

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel says. His hands twitch on the table, and he almost knocks his teacup over as he reaches for Lisa’s hands, only to jerk away at the last second. She lifts her chin, watching him curiously. “I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t know, and-”

“Does it weird you out that my mom’s bi?” Lisa asks, sounding confused.

“No.  _ Dean’s _ bi, and I might be too, I think, so of course I don’t care about that.” Castiel hesitates. “It’s just… the similarities...”

To his surprise, Lisa actually laughs. There’s a sadness on the edges of the sound, but she seems more relaxed now than she was in the store, when she first realized who he was. “Trust me, I got over  _ the similarities _ a long time ago.” She rolls her eyes again, then rests her chin in her hand, watching people pass on the other side of the street. “My mom left my dad for another woman, and my boyfriend left me for another man. That’s just…” Sighing, she lifts her head again, meeting Castiel’s gaze. “It’s not your fault, so don’t apologize. And it’s not Dean’s fault either. It’s just a coincidence.”

“It’s a shitty coincidence,” Castiel mumbles, picking at his fingernails again. Lisa smiles, and wisely decides to let it drop.

“Here’s what you can tell Dean,” she says, sipping at her tea. “Despite everything that happened, he’s still one of the best people I’ve ever met. Whenever he wasn’t drunk or stuck in his own head, he was an incredibly thoughtful and pleasant human being.” She pauses, meeting Castiel’s eyes again before quickly turning away. “And I loved him. I’m glad he was…” She trails off, her gaze distant again, as if her thoughts are on an entirely different planet. 

Her phone buzzes, startling both of them. It rattles noisily on the table until Lisa grabs it and checks her messages. A small smile lights on her lips, a strange, affectionate thing, and she taps out a quick reply before setting the device back on the table.

“I have no regrets,” she says firmly. Castiel studies her face for a moment, before deciding that he believes her. Still, he catalogues that odd smile in the back of his brain. There’s something familiar about it, but he can’t quite put a name to it.

“Does that mean you forgive him?” Castiel asks. Lisa raises an eyebrow, considering the question, then shrugs.

“Not yet, I think. But I’m getting there.” Lisa nods once, as if confirming this to herself, then smiles brightly. “I’ll find him when that happens, and we can talk then.”

Castiel smiles back at her, because maybe that will give Dean a little reprieve. One less thing to carry around on his shoulders.

They both seem to silently agree that the conversation has reached its natural end, standing simultaneously. Castiel takes a few long drinks from his cup, as Lisa types out another text message. He reaches into his pocket to check for his own phone, wanting to text Charlie, but blanches when he finds something else tucked in there.

“Um,” he says. Lisa glances up to see the chain and protective charm tangled in a ball on his palm. He blushes pink, noisily dropping them on the table. “I meant to pay for that.”

Lisa blinks at the jewelry, then starts to laugh. Peals of cheerful laughter, like bell chimes, while Castiel stares sheepishly at his shoes. He glances up when he hears something scratch the table, and is surprised to see a smirking Lisa sliding the chain back to him.

“Keep it,” she says. “You need all the protection you can get.”

Castiel runs a hand through his hair, trying to pretend his cheeks aren’t burning with embarrassment. “I was actually going to buy it as a gift. For Dean.”

To his surprise, Lisa’s smile grows. “Even better. Seriously.”  She slaps the chain, then shrugs her bag back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell Stella it was a gift to the coven or something. She barely pays attention to the inventory anyway.”

When Castiel doesn’t take the gift, she rolls her eyes, takes his hand, and drops the charm back in his palm, carefully closing his fingers over it. When she lifts her eyes, a pretty smile still sitting on her lips, it feels like a blessing.

“Tell Dean he’ll need it the next time I see him,” Lisa says with a cheeky wink.

Castiel laughs despite himself, tucking the chain back in his pocket as he nods. “I’m sure he’ll be waiting with bated breath for your call.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Then keep him distracted for me, would you?”

“Gladly,” Castiel says with a wink of his own. 

Lisa takes a deep breath and lets it go, still smiling. “It was good to see you, Cas.”

“You too,” Castiel responds quietly. 

There’s a hesitation, only a second or two long, where it seems like neither one can decide if they should hug or shake hands - what’s the protocol when an ex-lover gives a blessing to their replacement? Finally, Lisa huffs and waves, taking off on her own. Castiel watches her as she crosses the street, until she disappears around a corner. 

Something about this encounter resonates with Castiel. He’s absolutely positive that he hasn’t seen the last of Lisa Braeden.

 

\-----

 

“Shut your face. Lisa?  _ Dean’s _ Lisa?” 

Castiel frowns, something about the implication that Lisa belongs to (with?) Dean pinging a nerve. In the backseat, Bela snickers from where she’s squished against the window by an exhausted, sleeping Sam, and Charlie peeks at the rearview mirror before glancing at Castiel and wincing.

“I mean. Y’know. They dated for a  _ long _ time, and… it was a long time ago, just…” She huffs and shakes her head. “Irrelevant. What  _ is _ relevant is that you should’ve texted me ‘cause I would’ve liked to have seen her.”

Again, something dark tugs at Castiel’s insides, and it tastes like jealousy in the back of his throat. According to Dean, Lisa herself had said that they weren’t a good match, and broke up with him when he was at his lowest. But after effectively ignoring Castiel most of the summer, just because Jo declared herself Dean’s white knight and refused to allow any other version of events or educated opinions to reach anyone’s ears… Charlie would still want to catch up with _ Lisa _ ?

Castiel catches himself. Maybe that’s a little too black and white. He made his own mistakes. And it’s not like he and Dean are really in a relationship yet, like Dean and Lisa were. They may not be in one for a while, if Castiel decides he wants to sleep with Balthazar. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Charlie glances at him again and huffs. “What’s that face for?”

“What face?”

Bela laughs again, watching the endless acres of green roll by outside the window. “That constipated face you get when you’re thinking too hard.”

Castiel flips her off, and she blows him a kiss while Charlie giggles. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Charlie presses. She mostly keeps her eyes on the road and sticks to the speed limit, making her a much more reliable driver than Dean, especially in those parts of the trip where it feels like the trees and gray skies could stretch on for eternity. 

Castiel purses his lips and picks at his fingernails, thinking. He doesn’t want to argue about the Aaron debacle anymore, with anyone. He and Dean have settled that matter, Charlie has already apologized, and Jo is working on doing the same, so it’s time to just let that go. 

But a little light flickers in his head. Charlie and Gilda had broken up because they didn’t want to pursue a long distance relationship, and Charlie admitted that she thought there might be options for her at Gonzaga. 

Castiel is interested in options too. 

“It’s probably rude and definitely none of my business,” Castiel says aloud, still staring at his hands fidgeting in his lap. Charlie frowns.

“You can ask me anything.” A pause. “Is this about you and Dean being far away from each other?” When Castiel’s head shoots up, both she and Bela practically cackle. “You’re so transparent,” Charlie says fondly, shaking her head. 

Castiel scowls, stubbornly staring out the window again. They’re passing yet another river, but at least it’s a break from the trees. “It’s not funny,” he pouts. “We’re only just becoming comfortable with each other again, and now…”

Charlie scoffs. “You’ve got, like, an entire month, right?”

“Maybe not.” Castiel sighs, and after checking the backseat to ensure that both Sam and Anna are asleep, he tells the girls about Balthazar’s offer, and Naomi’s. When he’s done, Bela looks mildly impressed for some reason, but Charlie is frowning so hard, it’s dragging the muscles down all over her face.

“So after going around telling people Dean cheated on you, you want to cheat on him?” she snaps harshly, gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Castiel raises his eyebrows, but Bela scoffs before he can respond.

“Don’t be daft,” Bela says. “That’s not at all what he said. He just wants to experiment a little. Like Dean did,” she adds pointedly, and Charlie turns that scowl towards the rearview mirror.

“Right. Dean experimented. And he didn’t tell Cas, and that was wrong, I’m not going to advocate that. But,” and she actually turns to look at Castiel for a second, sighing, before shaking her head and looking back at the road. “You can’t get upset about Dean experimenting with Aaron, then turn around and expect him to be okay with you doing the same thing with one of your friends.”

“As you and Jo have so enjoyed reminding me this summer,” Castiel says, surprised at the bitter tone of his voice, “Dean and I are not in a relationship. If I go to Dean and tell him I’m not sure I’m ready to be in a relationship and I want these opportunities, that’s  _ entirely _ different from Dean sneaking around with Aaron and not even thinking to mention him until he was forced to.  _ Twice _ .”

Charlie opens her mouth, but when nothing comes out, she snaps it closed again. Rain starts to patter against the windshield, so she aggressively flicks the switch for the windshield wipers and sighs again. Bela pulls out her compact, and starts to fix invisible marring in her foundation as she sing-songs, “He’s right, Charles. And don’t pretend you’re not looking to get laid up north.”

“ _ You’re _ looking to get laid,” Charlie mutters, blushing when she realizes Castiel heard her. She clears her throat and sits up a little straighter. “I broke up with Gilda because I didn’t think we should limit ourselves when we were going to be so far away from each other, yeah, but…” She hesitates, chewing on her lower lip, before admitting, “But I’m stronger than Dean. Y’know?” She glances at Castiel again. “I love Gilda, and I thought maybe we could have a future together, but I’m not pinning my entire future on her being there with me.” 

She doesn’t continue, but Castiel picks up on the implication, and admittedly, it’s something that he’s well-aware of. Dean has said that there’s nothing for him in Sileas except his family and friends. The friends are starting to leave, and someday, his brother will too. Castiel doesn’t like to think about it, but he knows that Dean believes Castiel is all he has going for him. 

That’s not to say that Castiel doesn’t want a future with Dean too. Again, these are things he tries not to let himself think about often, because it makes his heart ache to think of the little Victorian house with the fence and the fireplace and Dean’s paintings on every wall, and how long it will take him to be in a place to provide that for Dean. 

So maybe Castiel’s no better than Dean, because he really can’t see anyone else with him in that house. He forces himself to imagine Balthazar there, just to experiment, but the whole sequence feels wrong, and soon enough, Balthazar’s eyes turn green, his shoulders broaden, and his face softens into something more reminiscent of what Dean might look like in ten years. 

Charlie would probably say the same thing, if he asked her. That she could only picture Gilda doing dishes next to her and sleeping in her bed at night. But, for Bela’s sake, Castiel doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he slowly tries to speak what’s going through his mind: “I don’t want to break up with Dean, I think.” That deep, dark frown tweaks Charlie’s pretty face again, and Castiel hurries to specify, “I’m not going to ask him to sit quietly at home and wait for me to finish playing either. And if he doesn’t want me to play at all, I’ll agree to it.”

Bela shifts in the backseat. “You shouldn’t have to limit yourself if you don’t want to,” she says quietly. Castiel looks over his shoulder at her, turning that over in his head.

“I don’t think of it as limiting myself,” he says after a long, tense moment. “I love Dean, and he makes me happy, and I think I could be happy with him for a long time. But there are things I’m confused about, and I’d like the opportunity to figure myself out. Freshman year seems like the perfect time to do something like that.”

Charlie is still frowning and fidgeting, but her grip on the steering wheel isn’t quite so vicious anymore. “I don’t know, Cas,” she says, her voice strained. “You won’t break up with him, but you want to sleep with your friend… it sounds like cheating.”

“Not cheating if he has permission,” Bela chimes in. Charlie’s eyes dart to the rearview mirror, while Castiel turns to look at her again. “I’m serious,” Bela says with a shrug. “Lots of couples do it, especially during college.”

Charlie’s frown is more thoughtful this time, and Castiel wonders if she’s now regretting her decision to break-up with Gilda. He meets Bela’s gaze, and she raises an eyebrow at him before rolling her eyes.

“I mean, if you want to pursue other  _ relationships _ , it’s not the best option,” Bela adds, and Charlie’s shoulders relax a little. “But if Cas and Dean are in love and just want to experiment a little, I don’t see why it should matter, as long as they both agree to it.”

The car falls silent. Sam is snoring softly, and Anna is nestled sweetly against his side, so Castiel takes a quick picture with his phone, to show Dean later. Bela stares out the window, and Charlie concentrates on the road, while Castiel replays the conversation in his mind.

They pass the river again, then a patch of farmland, and Castiel says, “I’m going to talk to Dean about it.”

“Okay,” Charlie whispers. 

“I mean it. If he wants monogamy, I’ll give it to him.”

Behind them, Sam yawns and stirs. Charlie checks the rearview and smiles softly. “You say that now, but when you’re all the way in Chicago, surrounded by Lambda hotties…”

Castiel shakes his head. “I won’t break his heart.”

Charlie looks at him. Sam yawns again and sits up, sniffling as he jostles Anna awake. “Man, how long was I out?” Sam asks. Anna frowns at him and immediately curls up against the window.

“You snore like a wookie,” Charlie teases, but she meets Castiel’s eyes for a second, and a gentle smile crosses her face. It’s a silent affirmation of trust, and Castiel nods, relaxing back in his seat.

The road stretches on before them, surrounded by endless miles of green.

 

**July 28th, 2008**

It’s an almost perfect evening, the clouds parting to reveal a pink and purple sunset, the whole town smelling like fresh earth and ozone. There’s a soft breeze coming in Castiel’s window, so he changes into his running shorts and comfortable shoes, doing a few quick stretches on his way to the door. It feels like the rainiest summer he’s ever seen in Oregon, which is saying something, so he hasn’t been able to run as much as he likes. There’s a fitness center downstairs that he’s been frequenting, but nothing is as freeing or relaxing as running outdoors in the sunlight, surrounded by greenery.

“Are you going out? It’s almost dinner time.”

Castiel drops his leg and rolls his shoulders before looking back at his mother, smiling at her displeased expression. “Just wanted to go for a run.”

Naomi narrows her eyes. “Were you going to see Dean?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

She hums skeptically. “Well, you should still let him know that Lucifer is in town, and we are willing to be flexible about dinner plans. Whatever Dean’s schedule allows, we’ll make time for.”

Castiel blinks, considering this. He remembers the charm he accidentally stole, and well, he hasn’t seen Dean for a few days. It’d be easy to stop by the Winchester house, and if he’s not home, then Castiel knows the places Dean likes to hang out. 

It’s weird how suddenly an itch raises under Castiel’s skin. A desire to see or touch Dean, not all that different from the times he lays alone in bed and wonders what it would be like to have a warm body next to him at night. 

“Okay,” Castiel says, “I’ll let him know.”

Satisfied, Naomi turns back to the book she was reading. Castiel quickly returns to his room, grabbing the charm off the nightstand, then races out the door before anyone can stop him again. 

Then, he’s free. The wind in his hair and the slap of his sneakers on the sidewalk. It’ll probably be cold once the sun sets, but if Castiel finds Dean, he can always ask for a ride back to the resort. Dean never refuses a chance to chauffeur Castiel around in his baby. 

Castiel runs his hands through his hair as he reaches the town, taking a deep breath before heading uphill towards the Winchester home. This is what makes him sweat, and he berates himself once he reaches their front steps. He really needs to practice more. Clearly, the treadmill isn’t doing much for him.

There’s light coming through the bay window, so Castiel presses the doorbell, trying to catch his breath as he waits. It’s only a few seconds before the door swings open, and Sam is beaming at him. “Hey, we weren’t expecting you!”

“Surprise,” Castiel deadpans, smiling despite himself when Sam snorts. 

“We just finished dinner, but we might have something left over if you’re hungry?” Sam offers, stepping out of the way to let Castiel inside. Castiel takes a few more deep breaths, wiping sweat off his brow, but is prevented from answering when Dean’s voice yells out from the kitchen:

“Ain’t nothin’ left when Sammy eats! He’s like a fuckin’ vaccuum!”

Sam’s expression turns murderous, and now Castiel can’t hold back a laugh. He ruffles Sam’s hair as he passes him, heading for the kitchen and leaning against the open entryway.

Dean is standing at the sink, his back to Castiel as works his way through a small pile of dishes. The room smells like cinnamon and cayenne and meat, and Dean is humming cheerfully, shaking his hips, before he yells again, “Just kidding, this recipe is enough for, like, ten people, even Sam can’t-” 

He turns then and notices Castiel smiling at him, and Dean’s entire face lights up. “Hey, gorgeous!” He says, like he can’t contain his excitement, and Castiel can feel a blush crawling up his neck as he approaches the sink. He’s sweaty and wearing running shorts, but if Dean thinks he’s gorgeous, then maybe that doesn’t matter. “Seriously, I made Cincinnati chili in the crockpot, there’s plenty if you want any.”

Castiel’s not going to say no to Dean’s food, especially when he hasn’t had his own dinner yet. But even as he nods, he steps up next to Dean at the sink, reaching for a sponge. “I’ll help you first. Then you can sit with me.”

Dean’s eyes are soft and affectionate even as he teases, “You never washed a dish in your life.”

“That’s not true.” Castiel smiles, grabbing a ladle out of the soapy water, leaning into Dean as he does so. “I’ve washed your dishes before.”

Dean blinks. Castiel ignores him, humming softly as he scrubs at the ladle, and eventually Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Whatever makes you happy, your highness,” he says, nudging Castiel with his elbow as he picks back up on the crock pot. But he’s smiling, so Castiel smiles too.

They work in silence for a moment, handing dishes back and forth, stealing touches when they can get them. Finally, Castiel rolls his shoulders and clears his throat. “I saw Lisa the other day.”

Dean pauses and turns to look at him. “Lisa?  _ My _ Lisa?”

Again with that? Castiel can’t help frowning, and Dean notices. He tenses briefly before turning sheepish, tucking his head back into his shoulders and focusing on the plate in his hand. “I mean. Um. Lisa Braeden? Wow, blast from the past! Totally,  _ totally _ past. Just the past. Um, where did you find her at?”

“A New Age store in Portland,” Castiel answers flatly, still staring at Dean. “Her stepmother owns it.”

Dean is scrubbing way too roughly at a plate that is probably already clean. “So she’s doing okay?”

“She seemed fine. Busy,” Castiel comments, remembering how much texting Lisa had done during their conversation. “But happy, I guess.”

“Good.” Dean relaxes a little, but still won’t look at Castiel. “Did she, um… ask about me?”

“If I told you no, would you be disappointed?”

That gets Dean’s attention. He finally sets the plate aside, turning to Castiel with a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to say, Cas? I’m sorry I ever loved anybody before you?”

Castiel winces, meeting Dean’s eyes. “You’re right,” he says, dropping a spoon into the water. “I’m sorry. Lisa and I had a very nice conversation. She seemed happy to hear that you’re happy, but said that you’re not totally forgiven yet. You’ll hear from her when you are.”

Dean takes a second to process this. Castiel presses up against him, taking the last pot and rinsing it while he waits for a reaction. He prepares himself for anything; Dean could see this as progress, or he could take it poorly and want to be left alone to lick his wounds. For now, Castiel scrubs at the remains of what looks like spaghetti, and waits for a reaction, ready to be whatever Dean needs. 

Thankfully, after a long moment, Dean smiles and nods. “That’s fair,” he murmurs, almost to himself. He watches Castiel struggle with the pot for a moment, then laughs. “Are you seriously jealous of Lisa?”

Castiel tightens his jaw and scrubs a little more aggressively. Back when Dean had been dating Lisa, Castiel had already been resigned to never having his feelings returned, so jealousy wouldn’t be what he’d call his feelings towards Lisa back then. Maybe Lisa was jealous of Dean’s relationship with Castiel, but Castiel wouldn’t use that term for himself. 

So why is he behaving this way now? Especially when he’s trying to figure out how to talk to Dean about what to do with their relationship while he’s away at school. If they decide to go through with what Castiel wants, then Dean could go to Portland every weekend and have sex with Lisa, and Castiel couldn’t complain about it. The thought burns in his chest, and he’s suddenly assaulted with images of  _ Lisa _ in that pretty Victorian house that Castiel wants so badly. Her hair is braided and her smile is beautiful and she and Dean always were a painfully gorgeous couple, the kind you only see in movies. 

There aren’t many movies about couples like Dean and Castiel. 

This is petty and Castiel knows it. He still asks, “You loved her, didn’t you?”

Dean raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Sure. What’s that got to do with you?” He sighs and rubs a hand over tired eyes at Castiel’s immediate frown. “That came out badly. What I meant was, my feelings for Lisa and my feelings for you are two wholly,  _ completely _ separate things. Two flames that burn simultaneously, but differently. Always have been, and always will be. I can love both of you at the same time, and neither of you have to  _ compete _ with the other.”

Castiel scoffs. “Only because she’s not around.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” and Dean sounds more tired than annoyed, which just frays Castiel’s nerves even more. “Listen, it’s like this.” He reaches over and grabs Castiel’s wrist, pausing his frantic scrubbing on a pot that’s already clean - these dishes are going to sparkle with drama, Castiel thinks frantically. But then he looks at Dean, and Dean’s eyes are pleading and beautiful, so he lets the tension flow out of him with a soft exhale. 

“If you choose me, then I choose you,” Dean says firmly. “Even if Lisa came back to Sileas. Even if she wanted me back. You say you want me, then I’m here.” He presses his other hand to Castiel’s chest. “For you and only you.”

“And if I don’t want you, you’d go back to her? Just like that?” Castiel snaps, but Dean doesn’t move his hand, and Castiel doesn’t step away.

“Castiel,” and damn him, because all the tension just flows out of Castiel at the sound of his name. Dean shouldn’t have this kind of power over Castiel, this is what he was afraid of when they met up again this summer… but they’ve moved past that. Castiel’s not afraid anymore.

Well, he’s still afraid. But he’s learning to work with that.

Castiel knows now that he’s not weaker than Dean. In fact, he might be  _ stronger _ ; he did most of the pulling away over the last few months. He could pull away now, if he wanted to. But Dean’s grip is comforting, like a promise. Like a physical repeat of what he just tried to say: Cas chooses Dean, Dean chooses Cas. 

“I need you,” Dean says softly, and there’s pain and fear in his eyes when Castiel meets his gaze, but his fingers don’t tighten on Castiel’s wrist. He’d let go if Castiel pulled away, like he did the last time Dean tried to say this. And it’s not the three words that Castiel  _ really _ wants to hear, but maybe they’ll do. Maybe.

Castiel stares at him, blinking slowly. “Would you say you need Lisa?”

Dean chuckles, though the lines around his eyes speak of desperation. “I’d’ve chased her down by now, don’t you think? Haven’t seen her in two years, and I miss her, but sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is reminding myself that I’m that much closer to seeing you again.”

The house is eerily quiet, no sound but a ticking clock somewhere nearby, so Sam must have gone upstairs at some point. Aaron flashes into Castiel’s mind, bringing questions of Dean’s loyalty with him… but Aaron is different from Lisa. Where Dean openly admits that he loved Lisa, he has constantly claimed that Aaron is only a friend. He left that strange, late night voicemail trying to explain the difference, and now Castiel is starting to understand Dean’s point of view: love is love and sex is sex and the two  _ can _ come together, but they don’t  _ have _ to. It doesn’t excuse his secret forays, but at least Castiel can look at Dean and  _ believe _ him when he says things like that. 

He  _ believes _ Dean.

“Okay,” Castiel says. He nods once, then repeats, “Okay.”

Dean watches as Castiel pulls the last pot out of the water, rinses it, and places it in the drying rack. “Okay?” Dean asks. “That’s it?”

“I love you,” Castiel responds. “And I’m learning to trust you again. So okay. I have no reason to be jealous of Lisa.”

Dean fidgets slightly, his bare feet shifting restlessly. “Y’know,” he barks, voice too loud, “Lisa never got a straight confession out of me.”

“A what?”

“A straight… shit.” Dean rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I never… I was drunk on the phone with her once, and I told her we were teenagers in love, and she ran with it. The words never… came out of my mouth. The way they’re supposed to.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “If that’s how you’d put it, then I haven’t either. So what’s your point?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for the reminder.” Dean clears his throat, then tucks his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth on his feet. “I love you.”

It comes out soft and shy, and Castiel is suddenly very aware of their surroundings. Dean is barefoot, they just finished washing a pile of dirty dishes, and Castiel’s hands are wrinkled and smell like stale soap while the rest of his body smells like dried sweat. There’s tupperware on the counter, leftovers from the meal Castiel missed, and his stomach growls as he stares at Dean. Dean, whose t-shirt has holes in it, and his jeans fare no better. 

Dean came  _ so close _ to saying this at their little prom, and Castiel could have learned to be satisfied with what he was given instead. That was a special night in and of itself. It didn’t need anything else.

So leave it to Dean to save something this momentous for a domestic evening washing dishes in dirty clothes. Leave it to Dean Winchester to say it as an afterthought, like he hasn’t been working up the courage to do this since at least before their private prom. 

Castiel laughs. 

It starts as a surprised snort, escaping before he has the chance to try and stop it. Then come the giggles, which he attempts to smother behind his hand when Dean’s face falls. He wants to explain, make sure Dean knows this isn’t a rejection of any sort, but he can’t stop  _ laughing _ . Poor Dean stands there, looking dejected, while Castiel leans against the countertop and tries to get himself back under control. His chest and stomach hurt by the time his snickers turn into wheezing breaths, and Dean looks almost annoyed by now.

“Thanks,” Dean pouts as Castiel takes a few deep breaths. “That’s…  _ exactly _ what I needed to hear-”

“Dean, baby, no.” The nickname slips out, and it actually takes Dean by surprise enough that he lets Castiel take his hand, pull him a little closer. His cheeks are pink when Castiel smiles and leaves a kiss on his nose. “I love you too, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Dean mumbles. 

“It’s just… you had the perfect opportunity to do this the other night. We were all dressed up and dancing and it was the most romantic night of my life.” Another giggle sneaks its way out, but Dean actually smiles this time, so Castiel continues: “It is so  _ you _ to do it this way. To completely forego the grand romantic gesture and do it… like this.” He laughs again, sliding his hands up Dean’s arms and around his neck. “I stink and your leftovers are on the counter and  _ this _ is the moment you decide to actually say you love me.”

Dean’s arms circle Castiel’s waist. “You complaining about my timing?”

“Nah. It’s perfect.” Castiel leaves a kiss on Dean’s lips. “It’s  _ you _ .” 

Without even thinking about it, Castiel gets Dean boxed in against the sink, lazily trading open-mouthed kisses back and forth. Yeah, Castiel still needs a shower. The sink is still full of murky water. The tupperware is starting to condensate. But Castiel still wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

And when Dean’s hands disappear, only to come back wet and soapy, pressed against Castiel’s face as revenge for laughing at his confession, as Castiel retaliates by throwing stale water at him, as they grapple over the faucet and soak each other, shrieking with laughter, only to end up slipping and giggling into each others mouths on the wet floor when Sam finds them… that doesn’t change a thing. Tonight will be just as memorable as their prom. 

\-----

Later, after Castiel has finally eaten and foisted off Dean’s attempts at giving him leftovers, they end up on the front porch. It’s a little chilly, but not enough that Castiel wants to ruin Dean’s night in, so he takes a moment to stretch his legs for the run back. Dean settles himself in on the top step, watching with a smirk on his face, and he laughs when Castiel flips him off.

“C’mon, I can look if I don’t touch, right?”

“Who said you couldn’t touch?” Castiel teases, sitting down next to him. A breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the sounds of seagulls and waves hitting the shore.

“Um, last I checked, you did,” Dean says. “We still haven’t discussed otherwise.”

Castiel nudges him with his shoulder. “You really think we need to discuss it?”

“Yes.” Dean has his serious face on: furrowed brows, tight jaw, concerned eyes. “Yes, we need to talk about it, because I really don’t want to fuck this up. I want to know what you want and what you’re ready for so that I don’t end up pushing you.”

Castiel exhales, wrapping an arm around Dean’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don’t get worked up,” he mumbles against Dean’s skin. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured-”

“I don’t!” Castiel runs his hand through Dean’s hair, moving his lips down Dean’s cheek, his ears, his chin, before nuzzling into his neck, making Dean chuckle softly. “If I want something, I’ll tell you.”

“Promise?”

Castiel hesitates, thinking of Balthazar’s offer, but at this moment, nothing feels more natural than Dean’s weight and warmth at his side. If Castiel is curious about sex, then Dean should be the one he goes to. Even if he wants to experiment a little while they’re apart, Dean should be the first. 

But not tonight. They’ve already had one momentous event tonight, and there’s nowhere to go for privacy anyway. And because of that event, this isn’t really the time or place to discuss how their relationship should progress either. 

So Castiel nods once, and says,“I promise,” before leaning back back and putting his hand in his pocket. “I have something for you.”

“Does it match my eyes?” Dean grins. Castiel ignores him, pulling out the charm, locked in the silver chain, and dangling it between his fingers until Dean reaches forward and takes it. “What is it?”

“Lisa said it’ll protect you,” Castiel explains, grinning. “She said that you, of all people, need it.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he peers at the charm anyway. Castiel tenses up, afraid that he made the wrong choice, but then Dean is smiling and sliding the chain over his hand. “You’ve never given me anything before.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel huffs. “I bought you birthday presents-”

“Besides my birthday,” Dean interrupts, affection in his eyes. “You’ve never given me something just  _ because _ .”

“I know,” Castiel says sadly. “It’s not right.” He leans forward, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean being Dean, he puts his hand on Castiel’s waist and pulls him closer, kissing the top of his head. “You send me drawings all the time, so I should try to give you presents every once in a while too.”

Dean is quiet for a moment, and Castiel wonders if he’s going to argue the point. Dean likes to give away his art because that’s what he likes to do. He likes to give and give and give and never thinks about what will be left once he’s given everything away. Castiel loves that about him, but he worries too. Someone should give back to Dean every once in a while. Convince him that it’s okay to take, sometimes. 

“Thank you,” Dean whispers into Castiel’s hair. He circles his fingers around Castiel’s wrist, rubs his thumb gently over Castiel’s knuckles. “It’s really… I’m glad you were thinking of me.”

“I didn’t know what to get you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like this.” Dean laughs softly, his shoulder shaking under Castiel’s ear. “Sam bought me this weird amulet face-thing for graduation… I think he said it was for protection too, funny enough. But I haven’t really worn it because I thought it would be weird to just suddenly be wearing a necklace. Now, though…” He twists his wrist, making the chain jingle. “Now I got the set. Ain’t nobody gonna touch me.”

Castiel smiles slightly. “And if I want to get you something in the future?”

Dean hesitates before saying, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“No, I don’t. You don’t have to give me artwork either. That’s not the point.”

Dean huffs, rubbing Castiel’s shoulders. “Baby always needs stuff. She drinks 10w-30.” Castiel lifts his head, squinting at Dean, who laughs outright. “Oil. Brake fluid. Antifreeze. Can’t have too much of that shit. I’ll send you the specs.”

“Please do.”

They sit in silence for several moments, just enjoying the quiet of the evening. For once, Castiel doesn’t have a million things weighing on his mind, and it’s nice to just float here, watching the trees dance and the ocean spray in the distance. Dean’s touch is soothing, and Castiel’s not sure when that changed, but he’s grateful for it anyway. 

Maybe this is what a relationship is supposed to be about. Providing comfort and looking out for one another, in desperate times and perfect moments. Being able to discuss anything and everything, but allowing silence when silence is necessary. Challenging one another to something better, and loving all the little things that make a person who they are. 

Castiel allows himself to soak in the joy of that revelation, which is why it surprises him when Dean shifts and says, “So you’re going to college soon.”

Castiel lifts his head to frown at Dean, confused by this subject change, but Dean only grins awkwardly.

“Chicago’s pretty far from here, yeah?”

Castiel cocks an eyebrow. “Only about two-thousand miles,” he says flatly. “Spit it out, Dean.”

Dean exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair, and Castiel waits patiently for whatever is going to come out of his mouth next. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Dean says after a moment, holding his palms out as if to hold Castiel off. “But I just want you to know that it’s okay with me if you want to fuck other people while you’re at school.”

Wait. Castiel shakes his head minutely, staring at Dean as his jaw drops. Dean cringes, flapping his hands as if to wave the conversation away.

“I mean, I love you, I just told you that, so y’know, it’s not like I’m trying to, I don’t  _ want _ to, but I just think-”

“ _ Dean _ .” Castiel grabs Dean’s hands out of the air and holds them tight, gently rubbing his thumbs over Dean’s rough palms. “Did you talk to Charlie?”

Dean blinks, then shakes his head. “Not about this. I thought she’d-...  _ why _ ?” He squints suddenly, an expression that Castiel has seen on himself and his siblings numerous times. “Did  _ you _ talk to Charlie? Were  _ you _ gonna ask for this?”

“Don’t look at me like that, you offered first!”

“Yeah, but you were already thinking about it!” Dean catches himself and sighs, his hands relaxing under Castiel’s touch. “I’m sorry, just-” Surprisingly, he chuckles, shaking his head. “You ever realize mid-sentence that you don’t really mean what you’re saying? ‘Cause that just happened to me.”

Now it’s Castiel who squints, a frown pinching his face. It’s not a question when he says,“You didn’t think I’d actually take you up on the offer.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dean answers honestly, shrugging. “I thought it’d be a nice gesture, but you’re not really the type of guy to run around like that. Right?” He raises his eyebrows, hands suddenly clutching at Castiel’s. “That’s the message I got, was I wrong?”

“What message?”

“That you don’t want us sleepin’ around because we’re in love with each other. Because you think that’s the same thing. And I respect that!” Dean hastens to add, offering up a smile. “I can do it, if you want me to.”

Castiel hesitates, trying to figure out what this means before someone ends up getting hurt again. Dean was going to offer him the opportunity to play around at school, but hadn’t actually thought Castiel would take him up on it. And he’s not  _ entirely _ wrong; Castiel is actually a little pleased to know for sure that Dean understands what had angered him so much about his exploits with Aaron. 

But there’s the rub, so to speak. The implication is that Castiel is  _ weird _ for feeling that way. Dean ‘respects’ Castiel’s feelings, but he doesn’t feel the same way. And neither does Balthazar. Or Bela. Charlie and Gilda broke up to try other people on, guilt-free.

So this isn’t necessarily about love or lust as much as it’s about Castiel wanting to understand this thing that apparently makes him an anomaly. 

But if Dean is capable of separating love and sex, why would he be jealous at the thought that Castiel might want to experiment with other people?

Because he realizes that Castiel  _ doesn’t _ separate the two; he ‘thinks they’re the same thing.’ And if Castiel wants to have sex with others, then...

Castiel reaches over to press his palm against Dean’s cheek, smiling at the surprise in Dean’s eyes. “Whether we agree to this or not,” Castiel says quietly, “You’re never going to lose me. I’ll still be in love with you and only you.”

Dean ducks his head, out of Castiel’s touch, and stares at his lap for a long, quiet moment. Long enough that Castiel starts to wonder if he made the wrong assumption, but then Dean rubs his hands over his face and sighs, turning his head to gaze out at the ocean. “Do we have to do this?” he asks, sounding suddenly exhausted. “If you want to go around fucking other people at school, awesome, but let’s not make a big fucking deal out of it.”

At first, Castiel feels admonished, anxiously picking at his fingernails and trying to figure out a new topic of conversation, one that won’t have them parting with bitter tastes in their mouths. Then he remembers that they’re both supposed to be making an  _ effort _ here. This isn’t easy for either of them, trying to build a romantic relationship on top of all their baggage, and avoiding difficult conversations won’t help. 

Castiel has to open up, and Dean has to listen when he does.

“It is a big deal,” Castiel says quietly, keeping his eyes on the wooden floor of the porch. Dean shifts his legs, but doesn’t respond, so Castiel continues, “You understand, now, how I feel about sex. Felt?” He grinds the heel of his palm into his eye, then rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know. That’s what I wanted to figure out, because everyone else seems to think it’s weird that I feel that way. Maybe there’s something wrong with me-”

He cuts himself off when Dean moves again, and this time he’s reaching over to grab Castiel’s arm, to pull him as tight and close as possible. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Dean insists, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Castiel’s neck. “Please don’t say that, I’m sorry-”

_ “Dean _ .” Castiel chuckles as he gently pushes Dean away, squeezing Dean’s shoulders in an attempt to reassure him. “I appreciate your support, babe, but that’s not the point I was trying to make.”

Dean blinks at him owlishly, then turns away. It’s dark, still, but Castiel can tell through body language alone when Dean is blushing. 

“You understand me, and I think I understand you,” Castiel says, trailing his hands down Dean’s arms until he can link their fingers again. “Sex is sex to you, and if it was just about  _ sex _ , then it wouldn’t be an issue. But you know sex isn’t just sex to  _ me _ , and that  _ is _ an issue.”

Dean still won’t look at him. Feeling confident, Castiel takes the opportunity to lean over and leave a kiss under Dean’s ear, making him shiver and finally smile, jerking away from the surprise display of affection. 

“I’ve never had the opportunity to try… a hook-up,” Castiel admits, while Dean is still grinning. “So I’m not sure if it’s lack of interest or lack of opportunity. Maybe I’m just socialized to romanticize sex.” He pauses, then rolls his eyes at himself. “My uncle is an evangelist and my mother was his right-hand woman for most of my life. Of  _ course _ I’m socialized to romanticize sex.”

“Your immediate family’s not that serious about the whole Christian thing, though, right?” 

Castiel shrugs. “Doesn’t mean the association isn’t there.”

Dean thinks about it for a moment, then nods slowly. “Okay. You want to see if you can approach sex the way I do.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not looking to replace me.”

Castiel sighs in relief, smiling as he leans into Dean’s shoulder. “Never.”

Dean hesitates here, and Castiel knows him well enough to know what’s going through his head: Dean is still afraid that Castiel  _ might _ meet someone else, even if he doesn’t intend to. And Castiel can’t blame him for that: college will expose him to an entirely new set of people, both on and off campus. Multiple classes and cultures and sexualities, all shapes and sizes and colors, and while Castiel went to school in one of the most diverse cities in the world, his boarding school kept him fairly sheltered, surrounded mostly by rich, white, heterosexual Protestants… on the surface, at least. One of those labels doesn’t apply to Balthazar anymore, Castiel has to remind himself.

But Castiel knows himself, and he knows that no one will ever understand him the way Dean does. And he feels like, even if they agree to continue to put off naming their relationship for a little while, they have both made a commitment this summer. Sure, the season started with a pretty steep tumble backwards, but they both managed to claw their way to a place where they understand each other, where Castiel has made himself vulnerable in honesty, and taken Dean to task for his bad decisions. They are on solid, even ground, and Castiel has never believed in anything the way he believes in  _ them. _

He’s ready to say all this, to help Dean come to the same realization, but eventually Dean just smiles and leans in to kiss Castiel’s temple. “I’ll make you a deal,” he whispers against Castiel’s skin. “I’ll let you do whatever you want as long as you promise to call every day, and come visit me over winter break.”

A smile slowly breaks over Castiel’s face, and he squeezes Dean’s hand. “Okay,” he answers. “I’ll work something out with Mom.” He blinks, then gasps, reaching out to grasp Dean’s shirt. “Shit, I forgot. Lucifer’s here, so Mom wants to know your schedule for dinner.”

Dean laughs shakily, apparently taken aback by Castiel’s sudden change of subject. “Well, I bus at the Roadhouse tomorrow night,” he says, gently working Castiel’s fingers to release his clothes. “But I can do Wednesday.”

“Okay. Come early so we can put a tux together for you.” Dean groans, which makes Castiel laugh. “Come on, do you know how good you’d look in a tuxedo?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you can tear it off me in front of your family.” Dean winks as Castiel rolls his eyes. “How early is early? ‘Cause I’m at the shop all that day, and I don’t think your mom would like me getting motor oil all over your brothers’ suits.”

“I dunno, I think you look good in grease,” Castiel teases. “How’s five sound?”

“I guess I’ll live. Tell your brothers to be gentle with me.” Dean chuckles softly. “I’m a delicate sunflower.”

“I know, dear.” Castiel cups Dean’s jaw and leaves a kiss on his forehead before standing up, offering his hands to help Dean do the same. “I should go. I told my mom that I was just going on a quick run.”

“So much for that.” Dean grins outright when Castiel wraps his arms around his neck, uses his weight to push Dean back against a post. “Well, hello.”

Castiel leans forward for a slow, lingering kiss, humming softly when Dean’s arms circle his waist to keep him close. It’s intimate and sweet, everything Castiel wants from Dean, and he actually hates having to pull away. “I love you,” Castiel says.

“I know,” Dean responds automatically. Castiel cocks an eyebrow, and Dean laughs. “Love you too. Thanks for the jewelry, sugar daddy.” He shakes his wrist to make the chain jingle, smirking as Castiel pushes away from him with another roll of his eyes.

“I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Dean leans against the railing, which creaks under his weight, drawing Castiel’s attention as he descends the front stairs. “Text me so I know you got back okay,” Dean says. “I don’t like the idea of you running on the side of the highway at night in those sexy shorts.”

Castiel grins. “If it makes you feel better, baby.”

Dean ducks his head again, but Castiel caught that pleased little smile, even though Dean manages to school his expression into something more neutral when he rolls his shoulders and turns back. “‘Night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean is back inside by the time Castiel reaches the sidewalk, so Castiel takes off into the night with a grin splitting his face open. His tennis shoes slap against the pavement, and in the quiet of evening, Castiel allows himself to feel this joy, without inhibitions or questions or fears. Castiel is  _ loved _ , by a beautiful young artist who cooks like an angel and is painfully selfless, but learning how to allow Castiel to spoil him. 

Because Castiel loves him too. 

 

**July 30th, 2008**

All things considered, dinner goes pretty well.

Chuck is unavailable that evening, much to Dean’s disappointment, but he sends his regards through Naomi, who is a perfect hostess. Polite and pristine, she was helping Dean from the moment he walked into the hotel room, measuring his shoulders and waist practically by sight and helping him pin whatever clothes might be too loose or too long. They were forced to deal with trousers that were a little too short in the ankle, which Naomi fretted over until Castiel groaned and said, “Who’s going to look at his ankles when he’s got a face like that?”

Dean had turned pink while Naomi turned white, and Castiel’s brothers snickered in the background. No one complained about the suit after that.

Most of the conversation at the table had centered around Dean, who was fairly uncomfortable with all the attention. Questions about his future plans, his jobs, his artwork, leave him blushing and stammering. Castiel tries to help, holding his hand under the table (secretly delighted when he discovers that Dean is wearing the chain bracelet he gave him), and gushing about Dean’s paintings and cooking when Dean seems unsure of what to say. This almost seems to embarrass Dean even more, but Castiel thinks Dean needs to hear compliments like this, especially in a situation where he might feel like he’s somehow lesser-than. 

Gabriel does try to interrogate Dean about what happened two years ago, but Castiel puts his foot down and refuses to allow Dean to answer any of those questions. It was their problem, they’ve moved on from it, and it’s no one else’s business anymore. To her credit, Naomi actually agrees with him, telling Gabriel to stand down, and even though she knows nothing about what happened, she seems a little impressed with the way Castiel stood up for his relationship. 

In fact, she seems impressed with  _ Dean _ . Despite his stuttering, his downplaying of his own talents, and his outright admittance that he has no plans beyond the next few years, Naomi seems to be warming to him. Castiel thought he was imagining her little smiles, or that her interest in Dean was simply a reflex, after years of schmoozing at parties. But then she chastises Gabriel, and gives Dean a genuinely warm smile, and Castiel wonders if the Winchester Charm worked its magic again. 

Naomi wouldn’t be the first Milton to be blinded by it, that’s for damn sure. 

As Naomi is taking care of the bill, Castiel forgets himself and pulls Dean in for a hug, strong and proud, and he revels in the feeling of Dean relaxing against him, chuckling into his ear. 

“You survived,” Castiel whispers.

“Think your mom likes me?” Dean asks.

“Maybe too much.” 

Dean laughs softly. Someone nearby clears their throat, so Castiel sighs and pulls out of the hug, giving Dean a friendly pat on the shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Luke and Michael deep in conversation near the restaurant’s entrance, and Gabriel openly watching Dean and Castiel. Castiel sighs again and rolls his eyes. “It’s my brothers you have to worry about,” he mutters, but Dean laughs again.

“Hey, that’s just big brother code. You think I never give Jessica shit?”

“Not the way they’re going to give you shit.”

Dean shrugs. “I can handle it.”

But before they can approach, Naomi taps on Dean’s arm, drawing his attention. “May I speak with you for a moment?” 

Dean glances at Castiel, before nodding quickly. “Sure thing, ma’am.”

Castiel bites his lip, uncertain, until Naomi fixes him with a pointed stare. “Go catch up with your siblings,” she orders. “I promise I’ll bring him back in one piece.” Dean actually grins at this almost-joke. It’s not as confident as Castiel would like it to be, but there’s no real fear in it either. So when Dean encourages him to go on, Castiel hesitates for a few seconds before doing as he’s told. He only glances back once, when he’s caught up with the rest of his family, but then they’re on the elevator, and Dean and Naomi get left behind.

“That was risky, bro,” Gabriel comments with a whistle. “You sure Mom’s not gonna claw him open?”

“He can handle it,” Castiel responds quietly. In the corner of the elevator, Michael and Lucifer are still talking, so Castiel picks at his fingernails until Gabriel scoffs.

“I just don’t get it,” he says when Castiel looks at him. “You’re starting college in, like,  _ days _ . But you wanna saddle yourself to one horse? That’s not even gonna be in your stable? C’mon!” He ruffles Castiel’s hair until Castiel ducks away and glares at him. “Don’t blue ball yourself like that. Freshman year is plentiful, and  _ you _ are a hot piece.”

“Ew,” Castiel responds, wrinkling his nose. “You’re my  _ brother _ .”

Gabriel shrugs casually. “ _ Objectively _ , a hot piece.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed that Gabriel thinks their relationship can be reduced to nothing more than sex, or that Castiel might value sex over his connection with Dean. It annoys him even more when he realizes that Dean has already given him permission to sleep around in school, and what that might look like to someone like Gabriel. 

He’s actually starting to reconsider that decision when Anna huffs and rolls her eyes. “They’re in  _ love _ , Gabe,” she announces, like it’s really that simple. “They don’t have to be in the ‘same stable,’ that’s not what’s important.”

‘Dichotomy’ is the word Castiel is looking for, as he starts to realize that he and Dean aren’t the only ones who are struggling to make peace with different understandings of sex and love.

“Phone sex is not real sex, princess,” Gabe shoots back. Behind them, a strangled laugh escapes from Lucifer’s throat, revealing that he and Michael are now listening in as well. Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes. Great. Just great. 

“Dean and I have already decided how we’re going to handle the distance,” he says firmly, as the elevator dings at their floor. “It’s nobody else’s business how we want to approach our relationship.”

They flood out into the hallway, Castiel in the lead, as Gabriel and Lucifer snicker to each other. A distraught Anna stumbles on the carpet, frowning as Castiel stares stoically ahead. “Wait,” she says, “you’re gonna--... after all that shit with Aaron, are you really considering--”

“It’s not your business, Anna,” Castiel snaps, glaring at her. “Drop it.”

“Who’s Aaron?” And Castiel groans because that’s Michael, and he really doesn’t need  _ all _ his siblings riding his ass about this. Frustrated, Castiel pulls the room key out of his jacket pocket and struggles to get it aligned with the slot.

“Can you all. Just.  _ Leave it _ ?” 

“Castiel.” Michael is using his big brother voice, resting his hand over Castiel’s until it steadies enough to get the key in the slot, and the green light comes on. “We’re just worried about you,” Michael continues, swinging the door open and leading the way into the room. “You’re young. I know that right now it seems like Dean is the whole world, but when you start college, it’s a whole  _ new _ world. With new people.” He smiles benevolently, ignoring Castiel’s withering glare. “We just don’t want you to limit yourself.”

It’s like what Bela said, only a little more condescending. Castiel barely refrains from clawing his eyes out. 

To his surprise, Anna pipes up again: “ _ Love _ isn’t limiting,” she argues, and again, Castiel thinks that while she’s looking at this a little too simply, it’s still nice to have someone who isn’t going to talk down to him just because he’s still a teenager. “How many people in Chicago are going to love Cas the way Dean does? Don’t pretend you didn’t notice the way they look at each other!”

Two years ago, Anna harbored a schoolgirl crush on Dean Winchester. Now, she’s idealizing his relationship with her closest brother. How the seasons turn. 

Lucifer flops onto the couch with a laugh, his shirt and tie already undone. “The whole restaurant noticed, I think,” he says. “Anna, no one is saying they don’t love each other.”

“No, of course not,” Michael is quick to agree. “I’m just trying to say that your first love isn’t necessarily your forever love.” His smile turns a little sad, but he quickly switches it off, turning away to start pulling his suit off, piece by piece. “Don’t hang your future on him.”

This is so reminiscent of his conversation with Bela and Charlie that, for a strange moment, Castiel wonders if the girls got in touch with his brothers to really try and hammer the point home. Or maybe the universe is just aligning to try and send him a message.  _ Don’t plan your future around Dean _ , but why not? Castiel is going to college, he’s going to get a degree, and he’s going to support Dean so that Dean can be an artist and never have to worry about money again. They’re going to live in a pretty little house with a fireplace and paintings all over the walls, and maybe a cat, and definitely an extra bedroom that they keep saying will be an office for Castiel, but it stays untouched until, one special day, they finally have a reason to put a white cradle inside-

Castiel shakes his head, surprised at himself. Maybe he  _ is _ getting in a little too deep. 

But if he doesn’t build his future around Dean, then who does he build it around?

Luckily, or perhaps not, that’s the moment when Dean and Naomi arrive back in the room. Dean is actually smiling, Naomi’s arm tucked in his, and all the tension in Castiel’s muscles fades away when Dean meets his eyes and winks. 

Maybe they won’t last forever. Or maybe they will. 

But however long they have, Castiel intends to treasure it. 

\-----

After Dean has changed back into his regular clothes, and Castiel is comfortable in sweatpants and an old henley, they sneak away from Castiel’s nosy family, down to Dean’s car. Dean likes Castiel soft and warm, and Castiel likes Dean to look like  _ Dean _ , so they end up making out in the backseat for so long that eventually they’re startled apart by Gabriel knocking on the foggy window and cackling at them.

Castiel’s lips are wet and swollen, henleys aren’t great at hiding newly-formed hickeys, and sweatpants are the worst at hiding an erection, so all in all, it’s really one of the more embarrassing moments of Castiel’s life. Dean, however, can’t stop grinning, and even manages to harass Gabriel into giving them a few more moments to collect themselves. 

Castiel has to get out of the car to help keep his hands to himself, and the cool night air helps with certain other predicaments. “I was going to tell you something,” Castiel says as Dean slides into the driver’s seat, “but you are very distracting.”

“You’re one to talk.” Dean grins, yelping when Castiel pushes the door closed. “What did I miss?”

Castiel hesitates, trying to remember. They’ve pretty much had the conversation he wanted to have, though there are some things that have perhaps been left unsaid. Those can come in the daylight, however, so instead Castiel says, “I’m leaving town earlier than expected.”

Dean doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment, the smile sliding off his face so quickly that Castiel can practically hear the comedic whistle. “How much earlier?”

“Less than a week from now.”

“And you couldn’t tell me sooner?”

“It’s a fairly recent development,” Castiel answers honestly, picking at his sleeve. “My mother wants to find me an apartment in Chicago, and we need time to take care of that.”

Dean blinks up at him, one eyebrow raised. “You didn’t take care of your living situation sooner? Hell, Charlie already knows her roommate’s  _ name _ .”

Castiel shrugs, staring down at the blacktop under his feet. “I figured I’d find a roommate, or y’know… I didn’t think I’d need that much time to find an apartment, I don’t know.” He sighs and runs both hands through his hair, upset by Dean’s persistent frown. “I’m sorry, Dean. I really didn’t… I dropped the ball. It’s my fault.”

Dean stares at him for a long moment, then exhales slowly, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “It’s okay. I just thought…”

“We’d have more time,” Castiel finishes, voice soft. “I know. I’m sorry.” He glances over his shoulder, where Gabriel is dramatically tapping his foot against the sidewalk. “What did my mother want to talk to you about?”

When he turns back, Dean is actually grinning, but there’s a softness to it that makes Castiel’s heart flutter. “Don’t worry about it,” Dean says. He reaches up through the open window, cupping his hand along Castiel’s jaw and guiding him in for a perfectly chaste goodnight kiss that still makes Castiel’s toes curl. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Okay,” Castiel breathes. “I love you.”

“Back at’cha,” Dean says with a wink. The car rumbles to life, so Castiel waves before heading back to where his brother is waiting. 

Gabriel immediately throws an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, though it’s a bit more of a stretch now than it was a few years ago. “He survived,” Gabriel comments as they stroll through the lobby. “Michael didn’t bore him, Mom didn’t kill him. Hell, I think everyone ended up liking him in the end, the little bastard.”

Castiel chuckles softly and shakes his head. “The Winchester charm is a menace,” he says. “No one knows that better than me.”

 

**July 31st, 2008**

Castiel spends most of the day in Dean’s studio, helping him finish up the Heaven wall of his mural. He’s covered in paint, has it in his hair and under his fingernails, but there’s an almost painful sort of pleasure that comes from standing back to look at the mural, and knowing that some of those strokes and colors were placed by his hands. Thinking about being so involved in Dean’s artwork sends a vicious jolt of possessiveness up his spine, and Dean must feel the same way, considering the passionate way they grab at each other once the job is done. 

Dean ends up with a blue handprint on his shoulder. Castiel gets a white one on the seat of his jeans. Dean thinks this is hilarious, but when Castiel whines about having to go home to his mother and brothers like this, Dean offers to grab the extra pair out of his locker at the garage, and Castiel accepts.

As soon as Dean is down the ladder, Castiel reaches for a clean paintbrush and thoughtfully twirls it in his fingers, staring up at the mural they made together, enjoying the surge of pride that courses through his veins. He’s not artistic or creative like Dean, so it’s especially pleasing to know he’s had a part in this piece. That Dean wanted to include him in his own interests. 

Castiel frowns at himself; he doesn’t really have a lot of interests he can share with Dean. He likes running, but Dean is unwilling to get up even earlier than he already does, and Castiel doesn’t blame him; Dean is working two jobs now, already stretching himself thin. Maybe, while Castiel is away, he can try to find a few other hobbies that he and Dean can enjoy together. 

He’s distracted from this thought process by his phone ringing in his back pocket, right where Dean’s handprint is. Castiel wonders, briefly, what Dean could have to ask him if he’s only been gone a few seconds, but then he checks the caller ID and winces, accepting the call.

“Balthazar. Hi.”

“Hello, darling,” Balthazar replies, sounding perfectly cheerful. “How is podunk hillbilly hell?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “It’s not France, but it’ll do,” he says, playing Balthazar’s game. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s been over a week since we spoke last, and I’m getting a little antsy regarding my offer.”

Castiel glances at the painting again. He and Dean have come to a tentative agreement regarding how they’re going to handle the distance while Castiel is away, but Castiel still hasn’t brought up Balthazar’s part in it. He has a feeling that, if he did, Dean might change his mind.

Castiel is not stupid. He knows that Dean is terrified of Castiel falling in love with someone else, someone of his own station. He knows that Balthazar, who went to the same prep school and travels the world and knows all of Castiel’s rich friends and had the audacity to watch movies with Castiel between classes, is a lightning rod for Dean’s insecurities. If Castiel has the freedom to sleep with whomever he pleases and keep his relationship with Dean, Balthazar would be the worst choice.

“My mother is going to set me up with an apartment,” Castiel says carefully.

After a brief hesitation, Balthazar presses, “And the rest?”

Castiel exhales slowly. Behind him, there’s a clatter of clanking metal as Dean climbs back up the ladder. “It’s not going to happen,” he answers, lowering his voice. “Not… no. It’s just. I’m-”

“You don’t have to be nervous, Cassie. You’re a fox, you know that, and I wouldn’t treat you poorly.”

Castiel blushes hot pink, just in time for Dean to swing himself onto the floor, tossing a pair of oil-stained jeans in Castiel’s direction. “It’s not that,” Castiel hisses, ignoring Dean’s curious look. “I’m… I have a boyfriend, and he wouldn’t-”

“You  _ what _ ?” And Balthazar is so loud, but Castiel almost doesn’t hear him over the way Dean’s expression explodes into a glorious, glowing smile. Like ice in the sun, Castiel feels himself melting into a grin of his own, and it gives him the courage to actually speak the truth:

“Yes. I have a boyfriend. But that’s irrelevant, because the more I think about it, the more I simply don’t want to sleep with you. We’re  _ friends _ , Balthazar, and I don’t want to ruin that, but I don’t want to add anything else to it either.”

Balthazar is silent for a long moment. Dean’s expression pinches slightly when he hears Balthazar’s name, but that smile still stays on, radiant and adoring, and somehow Castiel knows he’s said the right thing, at least as far as Dean is concerned. Balthazar is no threat to Dean, but Dean wouldn’t accept that if Castiel said it aloud. That’s not the way Dean is. As far as Dean is concerned, Balthazar will  _ always _ be a threat, because he is rich and handsome and nearby and far less complicated, and that’s what Dean thinks Castiel deserves. 

“I’m glad you offered,” Castiel continues into the phone, “because it got me thinking and it got us talking about some very important things. Dean and I are still talking about how we want to handle the distance, but I honestly think it’s for the best if you and I stay out of each others’ beds.”

“Oh, it’s  _ Dean _ ,” Balthazar says finally. Castiel frowns. “I should have guessed, since you’re out there in Podunk, Nebraska.”

“Sileas, Oregon,” Castiel corrects flatly.

“Same difference. Oh, well, c’est la vie! Meg told me this would happen, and I laughed at her, but I suppose now you’ll get to tell her I’m eating crow for breakfast, eh?”

Castiel smiles despite himself. “That’ll make her whole week.”

“I know, I can’t stand it, how could you do this to me?” But his tone is playful, and instantly Castiel is at ease again, pleased that his forward answer wouldn’t push away one of his closest friends, one of the few he has that isn’t loyal to Dean first. “I suppose I will still see you around town, Cassie?”

“Of course.”

“Then bring pictures of your loverboy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any that he didn’t draw himself.”

“Those are fairly accurate.”

“I don’t believe you, so bring pictures anyway.” 

Castiel laughs softly and shakes his head. “I’ll call you when I get into town, okay? We’ll get lunch.”

“Sounds fantastic. Ciao, darling!”

“Bye, Bal.”

Castiel ends the call, places the phone back in his pocket, then turns to Dean with a smile… that Dean is no longer matching. That was fast, Castiel thinks with a sigh, as he takes in Dean’s pouty little frown and furrowed brows. “What?”

Dean takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, eyes closed, before he says, “Balthazar is going to be in Chicago with you?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers. “But he and I are just friends, and as you just witnessed, I already told him we’re not going to be anything beyond that.”

Dean fidgets, picking at his fingernails, and Castiel wonders where he picked up that nervous habit. “I don’t want you to have to limit yourself, though,” he mumbles, staring at the floor. “I mean, I’m glad we’re doing the um, the boyfriend thing,” and a smile flits across his face as he says the word, and Castiel’s heart skips a beat at the sight, “but you’re gonna have so many opportunities. I don’t want you to skip a good one for my sake.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and reaches for Dean’s hands, steadying them between his own. “If we’re ‘doing the boyfriend thing,’” he teases, bringing their joined hands up to his chest, “then you can ask me for anything, in regards to this. You can ask me not to do it at  _ all _ -”

“No, I think this is fair. You  _ should _ do this.” Their eyes meet briefly at these words, but Dean quickly turns away, his cheeks tinted pink. “I just… maybe we could…”

“Yes?”

Dean closes his eyes again. “Ground rules? Like… is it okay if we set up  _ some _ limitations? Small ones?”

Dean’s fingers are clenching sporadically around Castiel’s, and Castiel leans over to steal a kiss, surprised by Dean’s discomfort and trying to drain it away. “Can I ask what brought this on?”

“I talked about it with Charlie,” Dean mumbles. “I’m, um…” his voice goes small and sad, “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Don’t want to lose you.” Dean takes a breath, presses a small kiss against Castiel’s chin. “We looked it up online, and a lot of couples set up a system or ground rules or whatever. So Charlie said I should bring it up…”

Castiel pulls away and takes a seat on the floor, tugging Dean down to join him. He doesn’t let go of Dean’s hand, and tries to keep a smile on his face in an attempt to keep Dean calm. Limits are fine. Whatever makes them both happy and comfortable with this decision. Whatever keeps Dean from breaking down like he did two years ago.

“What kind of limits were you thinking?” Castiel prompts, after Dean has taken a moment for a few deep breaths. 

Dean hesitates, staring at his lap and rubbing his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles. “Stupid stuff. Like, my first thought was that I don’t want you kissing anybody else, but that’s dumb, ‘cause how do you have sex without kissing?”

“Hookers do it.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You’re not a fucking hooker, Cas.”

Castiel grins. “I can give it a shot.”

“Hooking?”

Castiel swats Dean’s knee with his free hand, pleased that Dean is comfortable enough to joke around again. “Not kissing people. I can try.”

Dean sighs softly. “I won’t be mad if you can’t, I know people get caught up in the moment or whatever, and it may not even be your fault-”

“ _ Dean _ .” Castiel squeezes his hand. “Anything else?”

Dean lowers his eyes, thinking it over. After a quiet moment, he smiles sadly, shaking his head. “Everything I think of is hypocritical.”

“In what way?”

“I can’t ask you not to sleep with friends, or not to sleep with someone more than once, ‘cause I did both with Aaron.”

Castiel sighs. “Okay, forget Aaron. Forget the past. We’re looking  _ forward _ . I’m not interested in revenge-fucking anyone, so if those are things you want, just say so. I won’t hold it against you.” He pauses, ducking his head and sitting back slightly. “I would ask you to hold to the same rules though.”

Dean frowns. “What?”

“You can’t kiss anyone, or sleep with friends, or-”

“Wait.” Dean holds up a hand, his brow furrowed in confusion. “This is about  _ you _ , I’m not-”

“I can’t ask you to wait for me in celibacy if I’m playing around. It’s not fair.” 

“But…” Dean huffs softly. “You and Aaron are-”

“Completely different,” Castiel snips. “You didn’t talk to me, like this. I didn’t know what was going on, and you lied to me. We’re being open now. We’re discussing what we want and what we’re comfortable with, and I’m not going to be the asshole who does shit he won’t let his boyfriend do.”

And Castiel’s not going to mention the deep, dark, jealous part of him that gleefully believes that Dean won’t actually act on this permission. He hopes his reaction to the Aaron situation might have burned Dean, make him a little less likely to be interested in anyone else, out of fear of hurting Castiel again. Not to mention that Sileas in the winter will see far fewer tourists and newcomers, cutting Dean’s opportunities to almost nothing.

It’s hypocritical and a little cruel, but these thoughts reassure Castiel enough that he can smile and nod when Dean asks, “You’d let me sleep around too?”

“Of course.”

Dean smiles hesitantly. “Okay.” He fidgets slightly, considering this, then nods. “Okay. In that case, do  _ you _ have any requests?”

Castiel pauses, surprised by this. He’s sure enough that Dean won’t take advantage of the situation that it seems pointless to ask for anything, but considering recent run-ins with the past, he manages to come up with something anyway: “A short list of people who are absolutely off-limits?”

Dean laughs. “‘Don’t sleep with friends’ doesn’t cover that?”

“It covers Aaron,” Castiel concedes, “but not Lisa.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “ _ Cas _ .”

“ _ Dean _ .” 

Castiel knows he’s being paranoid, that he might be showing his hand as kinda-possessive and definitely-jealous, but Portland is much closer to Sileas than Chicago, and now that Dean has an idea of where to look for Lisa, what’s to stop him from doing so?

Dean looks annoyed by this, and Castiel knows it’s been discussed and put away already; he  _ knows _ . Dean chooses Cas, even if Lisa’s there, and it doesn’t mean he chooses Lisa if Cas isn’t there, blah blah blah. But that same part of Castiel that is so sure Dean won’t act on their agreement is terrified that if he does, it will be with his first love. And that might be how Castiel ends up losing him.

It’s irrational, he knows. But if they’re going to be open with each other, that includes irrational fears. 

“Just promise me. Please.”

Dean sighs. “Okay. I promise not to sleep with Lisa. Or Aaron, even though he’s going to be in Seattle and is no more a threat to you than Lisa is.”

Castiel frowns, but nods his acceptance. “Thank you. Do  _ you _ have any specific requests?”

Dean purses his lips, and turns his head away. “Meg,” he says immediately. “And you already told Balthazar no, but if you’re gonna harp on Lisa, then I’ll harp on him.”

Meg is going to Tulane, so even if Castiel had any sexual interest in her, she’s off the table. Castiel can only suppress a smile at Balthazar’s name, however.

“Deal,” he says softly. “Is that everything?”

“On my end, yeah. You happy with this?”

Castiel thinks about it, but only for as long as it takes him to realize that there’s a freedom that comes with trusting someone this much, and whether or not they take advantage of this arrangement, he’s glad that they were able to  _ talk _ to one another, figure this out, and come to an agreement. That’s miles above where they were at the beginning of summer.

So Castiel smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

And Dean grins back, radiant and blinding. “Awesome. Then I just have one more request.”

“Anything.”

“Let me take you out one more time before you go?”

Castiel cups Dean’s face and leans in for a kiss. It’s soft and gentle and life-affirming, and Castiel wishes he could live in moments like this forever.

 

**August 2nd, 2008**

The Roadhouse is where Castiel wanted their first date to be, so he’s delighted when Dean parks in the gravel lot across the street and takes his hand to lead him into the building. They both wave at Ellen behind the bar, at Bobby in his seat near the window, and Mary cheerfully takes their orders before they head upstairs, still hand-in-hand. The brewery is loud and golden, and as they claim a table overlooking the ocean, Castiel is filled with a sudden, vicious regret that he didn’t tell his mother off and accept OSU’s offer instead.

He shares this with Dean after Mary drops off their drinks, and Dean just smiles and shakes his head. “Too late now,” he mutters, before catching himself and continuing, “I mean. Might as well get a good education while you can, right?”

“OSU is a good school too,” Castiel says in a flat tone. “I’m sure their business department is perfectly fine.” He rolls his eyes. “I have a guaranteed job with either side of my family after I graduate anyway, so it doesn’t really matter where I go to school.”

“Then why choose Chicago?”

“It’s where my mother went.” Castiel sighs and rubs a hand over his mouth before adding, “Honestly, I think I was afraid. Of you and…  _ this _ .”

Dean raises his eyebrows, and sets his drink aside to reach over the table and take Castiel’s hand. “Hey. Listen.” He waits for Castiel to actually meet his eyes before offering a comforting smile. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to have you close-by all the time. But I also want you to do what’s best for you, and as much as I hate to admit it, that might be Chicago.”

Castiel huffs. Dean squeezes his hand. 

“It’s a great city. Lots of people, lots of culture… it’ll be a great experience for you, even outside of school. I don’t want to be the reason you avoid all that opportunity.”

And when Dean says opportunity, he means more than just potential sex partners, and Castiel hadn’t even considered that part of it. His prep school was in New York City, after all, so what’s the difference? Except that in prep school, he rarely ever got to actually  _ go _ to the city. Most of his time was spent on campus, bound by a curfew and the threat of having his mother called if he broke too many rules. College won’t have the same restrictions - no one’s going to call Castiel’s mom if he decides to go out late at night and not come back.

There’s freedom in this realization, and while Castiel feels better about his decision, he also feels guilty that Dean will be trapped here in Sileas. There’s Portland nearby, and Seattle or San Francisco if he wanted to take a weekend trip, but real life will always snap him right back. Two jobs, early in the morning to late at night. Maybe a few college courses dedicated to a career that Dean doesn’t really want, that will keep him locked right here in Sileas, while his best friends and boyfriend scatter across the country to find something more.

It’s not fair.

“You could come with me,” Castiel says quietly, already aware of what Dean’s answer to that offer will be. “Chicago’s a great art town.”

Dean’s smile tightens, no longer reaching his eyes, and he pulls his hand back as Mary approaches their table with hamburgers and fries. She notices Dean’s expression even though he turns towards the window, and a small frown mars her face.

“Looks like an awful serious conversation for a date,” she comments, setting the plates down, then placing her hands on her hips. “I thought we were finally past whatever was going on between you two.”

They’re past Aaron, past Dean’s transgressions and Castiel’s terror. But this relationship is still new, and while it’s certainly better than it was a few weeks ago, there is still a long way to go. That’s okay. They’re young. They have internet and phones. They can figure this out, with time.

“We’re fine,” Castiel assures her, flashing her a charming smile. “Thank you, Mary.”

Castiel lets the subject drop as they start to eat, but the silence that falls is awkward. They had had it so easy for a while there, and Castiel picks at his fries, disappointed that it’s come back to this just before he’s due to leave. 

Thank God for Dean, though. Dean wolfs his burger down, and as he watches Castiel sulk at his food, takes it upon himself to bring up a much lighter subject: “Have you ever heard of Jenkies?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “My childhood wasn’t completely bereft, Dean. I watched Scooby-Doo.”

Dean laughs with his mouth full, covering it just a little too late. Nobody’s perfect; Dean being a messy eater is better than some bad traits, so Castiel manages not to say anything, though he can’t keep his upper lip from curling in disgust. And Dean must notice, because he swallows before continuing: “No, it’s this thing I found on the internet.”

“A porn thing?” Castiel is teasing, but Dean actually shrugs.

“Kind of.”

Castiel makes another face, gently pushing his plate aside even though most of his fries are still left. Dean takes this as an opportunity to pull the plate towards himself and steal what’s left without asking. “Should I be concerned that you’re watching Scooby-Doo porn, Dean?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s not Scooby-Doo porn, asshole. It’s based on your dad’s books.”

“Explain yourself. And don’t eat so fast.” Castiel tugs his plate back, just out of Dean’s reach. “I don’t want you to choke before you enlighten me on your special porn habits.”

Dean chews deliberately on the food his mouth and swallows before grinning at Castiel. “It’s people who think that Jen and Ky are in love with each other. Jen and Ky smushed together is pretty close to ‘Jenkies,’ so that’s what they call themselves.”

Castiel huffs softly. “Really? But they…” He hesitates, leaning back in his seat as he goes over the story in his head. “I don’t… I mean, I knew that there were people who thought Jen and  _ Jared _ might have developed a sexual relationship-”

“Fucking ew, by the way.”

“- but I wasn’t aware that anyone thought that way about Jen and  _ Ky _ .”

Dean shrugs. “I dunno, it kind of makes sense to me.”

“How?”

Dean raises both eyebrows, a smile teasing at his lips. “Are you serious? Ky saves the guy from Hell, then ends up falling from Heaven for him, abandons everything he knows and his entire family to stand with Jen at the Apocalypse? That’s pretty intense for bros, dude.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m a little disappointed you’re not into this!”

Castiel is still trying to wrap his mind around it, however. His father is just finishing up the next book now, though he seems dissatisfied with the rough draft and hasn’t allowed anyone to read it except his editor. It’s difficult for Castiel to reconcile any interpretation that doesn’t align with his father’s vision, and while Castiel doesn’t know what’s going on with the series right now, he just can’t imagine a world where Chuck Milton would intentionally turn Kyriel into a love interest for Jen. It’s true that Ky  _ is _ based on Castiel, but all of what Dean is talking about occurred long before Chuck would have known about his son developing feelings for another boy. 

Under the table, Dean nudges Castiel’s ankle with his foot. “Did I break your brain?” he jokes, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Castiel runs a hand through his hair and smiles back.

“No, I’m just… why did you think I’d be into it?”

Dean shrinks slightly, eyes locked on the table. He’s fidgeting with his hands again, and Castiel realizes that he’s doing the same thing. 

“Well, it’s kinda like us, isn’t it?” Dean mumbles, picking at his fingernails. “Not as intense or anything, you didn’t  _ literally _ pull me out of Hell, but like… I dunno. Never mind.”

He looks sad, and Castiel’s heart lurches. That admission shines a different light on the idea, and now that it’s been put in that context, Castiel kind of gets it. If he and Dean can fall in love over little rebellions and drunken parties and pretty girls and ugly misunderstandings, who’s to say that Jen and Ky  _ can’t _ do the same, just because their problems are on a bigger scale?

Castiel reaches across the table and gently takes Dean’s hand, pulling it until their joined fingers rest in the center. Smiling, Castiel says, “I get it, I think.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s thumb is tapping anxiously against the table, so Castiel uses his own to still it. “It’s kinda dumb.”

“No, it’s not. I mean, for Ky and Jen it feels like a bit of a stretch, but I can see why you would identify with their story.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow, then shakes his head, laughing softly. “A stretch? You’ve read the books right? Jesus, the last book  _ alone _ …” He trails off, staring out the window, then laughs again. “I felt like an idiot for not noticing it before. When Jen stopped to look back at Ky in the ring of holy fire, after Ky had been following him around the whole chapter, angsting about lying to him…  _ dude _ .” 

Of  _ course _ Castiel has read the books. They’re his  _ father’s _ books, but that’s also why he’s a little hesitant to agree. Chuck isn’t homophobic or anything, but he designed Jensen as a womanizing pretty boy, and Jensen had even managed to settle down with a woman and her son for a while. There’s a big difference between interpretation and intent, especially when Castiel has first-hand access to the author.

But Castiel takes a moment to disregard his father’s intent, and thinks about the story from the outside, for once. There are moments where he can understand why someone might assume Ky and Jensen had romantic feelings for one another, and at least that’s an easier interpretation to swallow than the also-popular idea that Jensen has erotic inclinations towards his own brother. 

“I suppose,” Castiel agrees hesitantly, deciding that a reread of the series might be necessary. The next book is due for publication in about a year, and Castiel still has no idea what his father has planned, but it might be better for him to wait and see what comes next, than to bring this new information to Chuck’s attention. He’s surprised when he realizes that, despite his hesitation to embrace it, he’s protective of the idea. Possibly because he’s protective of Dean, who seems attached to it, and he doesn’t want to see it dismissed or laughed at, even if Dean would never know. 

Dean appears to recognize that Castiel is a little torn, because he smiles and leans forward over the table to whisper, “Wanna get out of here?”

Castiel’s breath catches, and his brain stutters over a thousand possibilities at once; it’s their last night together, they haven’t been intimate since that first date, where Dean didn’t even get off. Castiel suddenly realizes that he  _ owes _ Dean something, he  _ needs _ to make up for all the time they’ve lost to drama and misunderstandings, and goddammit, before he opens himself up to sex with strangers, he wants  _ Dean _ to claim him. That thought is new and scary and exciting - to be  _ claimed _ , to know that Dean had been the first as surely as he knows Dean will be the last - and Dean must have the same idea, with the way his smile tilts and his eyes dart away like he’s embarrassed. 

“Yeah,” Castiel breathes, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and dropping a couple twenties on the table. Dean frowns at this, but then Castiel is out of his seat and tugging on Dean’s hand, leading him towards the staircase. “Let’s do this.”

But that’s not how it goes.

Dean takes them to the beach, and while Castiel expects them to hunker down in the backseat for the rest of the night, Dean is leading the way towards the shoreline before Castiel can even undo his seatbelt. Despite being confused by this turn of events, Castiel follows, allowing Dean to take his hand when he’s near enough to reach out and touch. 

The beach is quiet, for now. There’s nothing but the sound of waves crashing in the distance, or rushing up the shore towards their feet, and a few squawking gulls hoping for a late evening snack. The sky is purple fading to black, Dean bumps into Castiel with his shoulder, a small smile on his face, and he laughs outright when Castiel forcefully shoves him back. It almost becomes a wrestling match, but they snap out of it when cold water soaks the legs of their jeans, from getting too close to the incoming tide, and they run back to the dry sand, still hand in hand, giggling as they go.

They take a seat near a high dune, leaning forward over their knees to watch clouds gather on the horizon. The air smells of salt  and petrichor and Castiel breathes it in slowly, curling his damp toes into the sand. Dean rests his head on Castiel’s shoulder, absently tossing whatever debris he can reach towards the ocean, and Castiel closes his eyes, enjoying the peace of the moment. 

He remembers, suddenly, that Dean had brought him this sort of simple joy when they first met. Watching movies with the rest of Dean’s friends, sitting in Dean’s room listening to music and talking about anything and everything while Dean doodled in a sketchbook, it had brought a warmth to Castiel that, at the time, was almost foreign. His family had shifted so sharply within the years before, and while he liked his friends at prep school, he had never quite fit in there either. He had been so purely  _ happy _ to find someone who could make him feel so  _ wanted _ . Like he was  _ important _ , just for being himself.

Things got messy after that first year, with all the secrets and pining and mistakes and innocent exes, but Castiel takes a moment in the quiet to take a deep breath and visualize letting all that go. Like black balloons floating out over the ocean, never to be seen again. The past is the past. He and Dean have waded through all that muck, and still ended up here, in this moment, relaxed and content. 

There will be more problems in the future. Of course there will. But if they can get through the last few years okay, then Castiel isn’t concerned about the rest. Maybe that’s naive, and maybe he’ll come to regret this certainty, but for now, he’ll let himself revel in it. 

That being said…

“Was this all you had planned for tonight?” Castiel asks, resting his cheek against the top of Dean’s head.

“No. This is just-... wait.” Dean sits up, a smug smirk on his face as he nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his own. “I know what you’re thinking, you dog.”

Castiel keeps his gaze fixed over the ocean, and his jaw fixed, willing himself not to blush.

“Sex was not on the to-do list tonight, no.” Dean’s voice is a low rumble over the soft sounds of the ocean as he drops his head back to Castiel’s shoulder again. “I’d wanted to have a real conversation about what you are or aren’t okay with before we went through with it. Plus there’s nowhere private to make the magic happen, and I’m not really interested in ruining the moment by having to hurry or cramping up in Baby’s backseat, or-” he gestures at the beach, chuckling softly, “-getting sand in all our sweaty crevices.”

“ _ Dean _ .” Castiel elbows him in the ribs, which just makes Dean laugh again, and Castiel smiles despite himself. “Don’t be gross.”

“Well sorry, honey, but you brought it up.”

Castiel runs sand-covered fingers through his hair, then abruptly regrets this decision, attempting to shake it out. “I had just thought… y’know,” he drops his voice, tilting his head until his lips brush against Dean’s hairline. “I’m leaving tomorrow, and we’d agreed that sleeping with other people would be okay, but I…” He swallows, glad they’re not looking at one another. “I kind of like the idea of you being the first.”

The words come so quietly and Dean takes so long to respond that Castiel briefly believes that his words were stolen by the tide. He opens his mouth to repeat himself, or change the subject, when Dean laughs softly.

“The first  _ guy _ , you mean? I’m flattered, Cas, but I’m not sure why that’d be something you care about.”

And suddenly, they’re speaking two different languages again. Castiel frowns, hard. “No, not first  _ guy _ ,” he says, perhaps a little too sharply. “First  _ anything _ . First  _ ever _ .”

Dean goes quiet, and still. Eventually, he lifts his head, meeting Castiel’s eyes, and his expression straddles the border between shock and horror. “First  _ ever _ ?” he repeats in a whisper.

Despite himself, Castiel rolls his eyes. “Yes.”

“You’re still a  _ virgin _ ?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Castiel hisses. His hands start fidgeting self-consciously, but neither of them notice. 

Dean rubs a hand over his mouth, eyes still wide. “But… you and Meg…?”

“Just because we dated doesn’t mean we had sex.”

“She  _ implied _ !”

“She does that. I think it’s because she wanted to, but I,” Castiel swallows again, trying to keep his tone light and breezy, “I was never interested.”

Dean is on his feet before Castiel has even finished speaking. He stomps away, head in his hands, muttering to himself and occasionally kicking at the sand. For a moment, Castiel worries that Dean is relapsing somehow; this reaction is frighteningly similar to how Dean behaved at his very lowest. But as quick as he was up, Dean is just as quickly lowering his hands, switching to deep breaths. 

He takes a few moments to settle before coming back to Castiel’s side, flopping down like all the wind has sailed out of him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, then clears his throat, stuttering slightly when he speaks again: “I, uh… well, I kinda made a really stupid assumption, and, um…” He rubs at his mouth again, and Castiel wishes Dean would at least look at him, but those summer-green eyes just stare straight ahead at the ocean. “Well, I just… if I had  _ known _ that you and Meg never… if I hadn’t  _ assumed _ that you’d… well…” Dean takes another deep breath and tips his head back to look at the sky instead. “I wouldn’t have done all that shit with Aaron if I’d known you were still a virgin.”

Castiel takes half a second to be surprised before rolling his eyes once again. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

“No! I just… y’know! We could’ve avoided so much shit-”

“Dean, why would it  _ matter _ ? What does me being a virgin have to do with you fucking Aaron?” Castiel huffs, shaking his head.

“Virgins take this shit seriously, and non-virgins don’t, so I was thinking, hey, he’s already had sex with a chick, he’s done the whole fumbling around, monumental-moment-of-my-life thing, so-”

Castiel makes a strange, rough noise of frustration, reaching out to put a hand over Dean’s mouth, stalling any further senseless babble. “We’re  _ past _ the Aaron thing, Dean. It’s over. I don’t need any more explanations. And I don’t need  _ you _ trying to tell  _ me _ how I’d feel about losing my virginity.”

Then he catches himself. That’s not fair. The whole reason this came up in the first place was because Castiel actually kind of  _ did _ want his first time to be special. A monumental moment of his life, as Dean said. Something he wouldn’t eventually come to regret, because he could never, ever  _ regret _ Dean. 

So Castiel sighs and pulls his hand back. Dean clears his throat and Castiel pretends he doesn’t notice the blush on his cheeks. “Okay, so I  _ do _ want it to be a big deal,” Castiel says instead, his voice soft. “Or, y’know, at the least, I don’t want it to be with some random kid I meet at a frat party the first week of school.”

Dean is quiet for a long time before he whispers, “If you feel that strongly about it, you don’t  _ have _ to sleep around at school.”

Castiel is well-aware of that. And yet. “I didn’t expect you to say no.”

“What?”

“You’re a lot more sexual than I am, Dean. You have to know that. You’re always the aggressor.”

“‘Aggressor?’” Dean sounds offended, and Castiel rubs a hand over his face.

“Okay, bad word choice. You’re usually the one who gets things started. And let me tell you, you have a much easier time of that than Meg ever did.” Dean actually seems to preen at this, a cocky little smirk lighting up his face, and Castiel can’t help laughing as he continues, “Hence the lingering virginity situation.”

“So you thought it’d be as easy as rolling out the red carpet.” Dean hums thoughtfully. “Well, too bad for you that I also happen to be a hopeless romantic.”

Castiel turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised, while Dean laughs. “You didn’t figure that out after the whole prom thing? C’mon, Cas.” He nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his own. “Whether it was your first time or not, I didn’t want to waste  _ our _ first time on a good-bye.” He leans back on his hands, but keeps his gaze steady, eyes locked on Castiel’s. “I don’t want to race through it in the cramped backseat of my car because you’re leaving tomorrow and it’s our last chance or whatever. I want to do it because we both want to. And it should be in a bed, and we should be able to take our time.  _ Lots _ of time. If we have to wait until Christmas, and you give it up to a couple other people in the meantime, well.” Dean shrugs, smiling easily. “That doesn’t bother me.”

Castiel has to take a moment, studying Dean’s face for any sign that he’s being lied to or made fun of, but Dean’s eyes exude adoration and the set of his jaw speaks of patience, so Castiel just sighs.

“You’re really not going to take me up on this?”

“Nope,” Dean responds, cheerfully popping the ‘p.’ “It’s my way or the highway, pal.”

“I love it when you sweet-talk me, buddy.”

Laughing, Dean starts to get to his feet, using Castiel’s shoulder to steady himself, then offering a hand to help Castiel up. “If it bothers you that much,” Dean says, swinging an arm around Castiel’s neck as they head back to the car, “think of it this way: you have already had sex with me.”

“What?”

“Sure, nobody’s dick went up anybody’s butt-”

“Wow, yeah, there’s my hopeless romantic.”

“-but we touched each other,” Dean continues, ignoring Castiel’s eyeroll. “We got off together. That’s sex too.”

“In what universe?”

“In  _ this _ universe, you cynic.” Dean gently shoves Castiel around to the passenger side, grinning at him from over the roof of the car. “Come on, sex doesn’t have to involve penetration. If it did,  _ Charlie _ would still be a virgin.”

Castiel freezes, staring back at Dean. “ _ What _ ?”

Dean just winks and slips into the driver’s seat. 

Castiel lets this information distract him while Dean drives them off to whatever their next location may be. Not that he cares about whether or not Charlie and Gilda slept together before their break-up (though he is a little disappointed that Charlie didn’t deign to share this news with him), but to think about sex as something other than the in-and-out rhythm of sweaty bodies, something phallic inserted into something wet and sheath-like. Last summer, in what Castiel can admit was a fit of passion, he and Dean did engage in mutual orgasms, but Castiel hadn’t thought of it as sex so much as… resolving some unresolved tensions. 

Which sounds a lot lamer than sex. And now that Castiel is thinking about it, there was a lot of rhythm and sweat, and two phallic somethings and some very eager hands and-

Dean turns up the hill towards his house. Castiel fidgets in his seat and pointedly reroutes his train of thought, though not before entertaining one last whisper of climbing into Dean’s lap and revisiting those memories together.

“I think you’re right,” Castiel says quietly, when Dean pulls into his driveway. Dean glances at him.

“Of course I am. About what?”

“We did have sex. I’m not a virgin.”

“Well, I mean, that’s up to you. You don’t  _ have  _ to look at it that way.” Dean reaches across the seat to adjust the collar of Castiel’s shirt, his fingertips brushing skin just enough to set coals burning in Castiel’s veins. “If you want to stick with the dick-in-ass thing, that’s your prerogative.”

Castiel swats the hand away, smirking. “‘Hopeless romantic,’ you said.” He slides down the bucket seat until their noses touch, and Dean’s arm wraps tight and strong around his shoulders. “You just don’t want me to engage in orgies with the frat boys.”

“Have you considered sororities? I think those orgies would be more-” Dean’s teasing is cut off with a little grunt as Castiel steals an insistent kiss, pressing Dean back towards the car door. Dean chuckles into Castiel’s mouth, apparently perfectly fine with a little making out before they part for the evening. And Castiel can be satisfied with that too; there hasn’t been nearly enough of it, of the tight press of their bodies and the warmth of Dean’s hands, or little breaths and that heady drugged-drunk feeling that Castiel can’t believe stems from the simple touch of lips, but he’ll chase it anyway. 

They don’t even hear Jo’s knocking. She has to slam both hands against the door hard enough to jolt them apart, and Dean scowls at her after they’ve sat up and opened the door. “We’re busy, can’t you wait five more minutes?”

“You’re already an hour late, you moron,” Jo snaps back, gesturing up towards Dean’s house. “And everyone could see you guys fogging up the windows.”

“ _ Good _ .” Dean pouts, but Castiel tilts his head, leaning over Dean’s shoulder to get a better look at Jo.

“Everyone? Who’s here?” He catches himself, squinting at her. “ _ You’re _ here, why are you here?”

“Dingus wanted to throw you a surprise party before you left.” She flicks Dean’s ear, and he petulantly swats back at her. “But then you were late, and  _ then _ he decided to have a private make-out party even though you were late, and now you’re even later so most of the food’s gone and nobody’s sorry.”

“I made that food!” Dean protests, clamoring out of the car. Castiel slides back to the passenger side to do the same. “You guys didn’t save any for us?”

“I said  _ most _ , not  _ all _ .” To Castiel’s surprise, Jo actually puts an arm around his waist, pulling him in for a sideways hug when he approaches her. “Now stop hogging the man of the hour and let everyone else get a chance to say good-bye.”

Castiel’s not sure what to expect when they get up to the front porch. He wouldn’t have expected a party at all until Jo mentioned it, and even if he’d known, he wouldn’t have expected _ Jo _ to show up, let alone to actually start offering physical affection again. Maybe this means the whole Aaron debacle, and every problem that came with it, really is behind them. For good.

Then Dean opens the door, and Castiel is still taken by surprise, because Charlie, Bela, Pam and Garth are here and look delighted to see him. Sam and Jess stage a coup to steal him away as soon as he’s in the door, and when they pass Ash, Victor, and Benny on the couch, they all give a stoic nod in greeting, and Victor actually smiles at him. Sarah Blake is in the kitchen, and Castiel hasn’t seen her for ages, but apparently Sam wasn’t kidding about still being friends with her, and she greets Castiel with a hug and a grin, like it’s only been days. Mary is done with her shift and fluttering around the kitchen as well, putting more snacks together, and she steals a hug of her own.

There’s music playing, and Charlie and Pam give him chintzy little gifts, and Victor and Benny invite him to play their card game while Dean and Jess trade sarcastic barbs. The food is good, the atmosphere and company even better, and Castiel has to remind himself that these people were quick to turn on him in order to protect Dean, without even trying to get his side of the story. He doesn’t begrudge them for that anymore - they can all be friends again - but he won’t soon forget it, either.

Maybe the better plan for Chicago would be to make a few loyal friends of his own.

It’s a wonderful evening regardless, and Castiel feels warm and happy when he stands on Dean’s porch after all the guests have gone. He has his arms around Dean’s neck, Dean’s hands on his waist, and as they share a good-night kiss, Castiel revels in his confidence that whatever comes next, he and Dean know how to talk about it, how to figure things out, and how to forgive each other. It’ll be easy from here on out; no more fall outs or extended periods of time without speaking, from this kiss until their last.

Fingers crossed.

 

**August 3rd, 2008**

The drive into Portland is long and awkward, especially after Dean politely insisted on Naomi taking the front seat, leaving Castiel to doze in the back while his mother and his boyfriend attempt to make small talk. Naomi still appears to be warming to Dean, but they’re just too different to make much conversation, and Castiel feels uncomfortable with the idea of letting his mother in on his easy openness with Dean, so he’s not much help either. 

Thus, the car is quiet. Dean even keeps his music down, out of nervous respect to Naomi. Castiel stares out the window at trees and rivers and miles and miles of endless green, and tries not to think about how upset he is to be leaving so soon.

But there are other thoughts that are pervasive, that have been circling through his head all night and into morning. He thinks back to the beginning of the summer, to an uneasy date at an unfamiliar restaurant, followed by an eager blowjob, and a no-nonsense sheriff who let Dean’s secret rendezvous slip. If Sheriff Mills hadn’t interrupted them, would Castiel have ever found out about Aaron? If he hadn’t known about Aaron, where would he and Dean be now?

Because as painful and as difficult as these past few months have been, Castiel can’t help feeling like he and Dean are better off for it. This isn’t just the honeymoon phase of in a cycle of drama and tension and release… at least, he hopes it isn’t. He feels like he’s  _ learned _ something, that he and Dean both have, and if there are more problems in the future, they can take what they’ve learned and apply it. If this had been the easy, romantic summer Castiel had envisioned back in May, he wouldn’t feel as comfortable or confident with Dean as he does now. There would still have been secrets and distrust and walls between them, and that’s nothing to build a relationship on. Castiel isn’t afraid to be vulnerable with Dean anymore, and Dean now knows how to accept that vulnerability for what it is. They know that loving each other isn’t weakness, and they know that they can survive disasters. Castiel knows that he chooses Dean, always, and Dean chooses him, always.

That’s more than some  _ adult _ relationships can say.  

When they arrive at the airport, Dean insists on parking and walking them to security. Naomi offers him cash to cover the cost, and Dean only accepts when he realizes how offended she is by his refusal, even though apparently all he’d really wanted was to hold Castiel’s hand a little longer. 

Naomi tries to give them a little privacy once they’re inside, telling them they can wait for her while she gets the tickets printed and checks their luggage. But there’s some lingering awkwardness, probably because they’re both hyper-aware of her presence, and although things are better between Castiel and his mother, there’s still nervousness that this might be a ploy, or that she might change her mind, and Dean is probably picking up on this.

So there’s no kiss. Castiel is dying for one, but he’s also pretty sure he would die if his mother caught him making out with Dean, so he settles for a hug. It’s not a bad hug; Dean likes to wrap people up tight, pull them in deep and warm and safe, so there’s really no such thing as a  _ bad _ hug from him. Castiel closes his eyes and tucks his nose into Dean’s neck as he wishes for more before wishing that he didn’t have to leave at all. There’s no point in wishing at an airport, however, and Castiel is jerked from his thoughts when he feels Dean’s hand at his backside.

“ _ Dean _ ,” he hisses, blushing as he pulls away. A quick glance over his shoulder tells him that Naomi is still at the counter, so he turns back with a chastising frown, but Dean just grins at him and places an innocent kiss on his forehead. 

“You’re coming out for Christmas, right?” Dean playfully wags his finger at Castiel’s chest. “You promised!”

“I haven’t discussed it with my parents yet, but I don’t see it being a problem.” Castiel grabs at Dean’s hand, taking the opportunity to intertwine their fingers one more time. “I’ll have plenty of time to talk Mom around to it before school starts.”

“Talk Mom around to what?” comes Naomi’s voice. Castiel jumps despite himself, and Dean laughs as Naomi hands Castiel his plane ticket.

“Nothing,” Castiel says. Naomi raises an eyebrow. “Okay, not nothing, but we can discuss it later.”

She doesn’t respond, instead turning to Dean. “I’m not sure where to begin,” she says primly. “So I suppose ‘thank you’ will have to cover it.” Dean fidgets when she offers a hand, but after a quick glance in Castiel’s direction, Dean finally accepts the handshake.

“It’s just a car ride, ma’am,” Dean grumbles, quickly putting his hand back in his pocket. Naomi lifts her chin.

“It covers quite a bit more than that.”

Dean blushes and looks away. Naomi turns her attention to Castiel. “Are you ready?”

Castiel nods, trying to catch Dean’s eyes as he says, “I’ll call you when we arrive.”

“Okay.” And it looks like there’s more to say - there’s  _ definitely _ more to say - but Dean hesitates for a moment too long, and Naomi clears her throat. 

“Until we meet again,” she says, nodding at Dean before she starts briskly walking towards security. Castiel should follow her, but like Dean, he hesitates, intending to speak, but something keeps the words at bay, and he can only wave at Dean before turning to follow his mother.

It’s the nervousness setting again, the hot-cold flip-flop that helped make the beginning of this summer so difficult, and Castiel hates it. He hates that this fear, which seems so irrational now, keeps rearing its ugly head. Even knowing that there’s nothing to worry about, after tearing all his walls down and letting Dean in, the feeling gnaws in his stomach, trying to build itself back up. Already. Before he and Dean are even out of each others’ sight. 

Frustrated with himself, Castiel follows his mother’s lead, placing his carry-on on the machine, emptying his pockets into a little bowl, when he finds something he didn’t realize was there.  It’s a piece of paper, folded into a triangle and tucked in his back pocket. Castiel usually only keeps his wallet or phone back there, but it only takes a second for him to remember that Dean had touched him. Once that information sets in, Castiel eagerly peels the note open, temporarily forgetting where he is.  Naomi is calling his name, but when Castiel finally lifts the last fold, he’s too surprised to notice. 

It’s a drawing. Simple pencil and ink. Castiel has been more engaged with Dean’s paintings this summer, so the improvement here makes pride flicker up in his chest. The poses are more dynamic, the faces more unique, and-

That’s Castiel’s face. And that’s not so unusual, but the fact that the other face is Dean’s  _ is _ . Castiel’s eyes scan the page, taking in the whole scene, and he gasps softly when he realizes what he’s looking at.

Kyriel, lifting Jensen from Hell. Dean has been drawing Ky with Castiel’s face for years, but seeing Jen with Dean’s crooked nose and freckles is new. And the  _ intensity _ between the two characters, as they cling to one another, Ky’s wings spread wide but his eyes are locked on Jen’s, who looks at the angel as if he knows that he has been saved.

Castiel thinks he understands Jenkies a little better now. 

He’s drawn from his thoughts when Naomi jostles him, frowning. “What are you doing?” she demands. Still a little dazed, Castiel doesn’t think before he hands the drawing to her, and she’s actually studying it before he fully realizes what he’s done. “What is this?”

The fear returns; Castiel hadn’t even noticed it was gone until it trembled up his spine again. “Dean drew it,” he answers quietly. Naomi raises both eyebrows, blinking at Castiel before peering at the drawing again.

“These are from Supernatural,” she says. “Aren’t they?”

“Jensen and Kyriel. Yes.”

“But they look like you.”

“Dean does that.”

Naomi hums. Castiel waits for the shoe to drop, but all she says is, “Have you shown Dean’s drawings to your father?”

“Um. No?”

She smiles, almost imperceptibly, and carefully refolds the drawing before dropping it into Castiel’s little bowl. “You should. He would enjoy them.” She pats Castiel’s arm before heading back to the metal detector, but Castiel stays frozen where he stands. He stares at that folded up sheet of paper, and everything that’s happened this summer, and the summer before, and the summer  _ before _ , rushes back to him so fervently that the gnawing in his stomach and the trembling in his spine disappear. 

He looks over his shoulder, and Dean is still there in the lobby, watching him with his hands in his pockets, like he doesn’t want to leave until he catches the last glimpse of Castiel’s shoe rounding the corner. All those memories, the waning nervousness, and the sight of Dean all swirl together into a heated burst of affection, and Castiel is headed back towards the lobby before he even registers the sound his mother calling after him. 

Dean is glowing in the morning light that shines through the window, his freckles and his eyes dancing as Castiel takes the sight of him in one last time, wondering how he could’ve been so stupid as not to notice this before. He should never not catch the way Dean soaks up sunlight like a sunflower, an image that he would paint if he were an artist, but all the talent is in Dean’s hands, so Castiel settles for cupping Dean’s jaw and pulling him in for a kiss.

Dean stumbles, surprised, but he catches up quickly, relaxing and allowing Castiel to try and imprint his love and adoration as best he can, so Dean won’t forget him while he’s away. Castiel draws strength from this too, tries to pull as much as he can from this feeling, so he can use it if the nervousness ever starts to come back. It’s give and take and take and give, and Castiel revels in the reciprocity, of all that they’ve worked for and all that he ever wanted. 

Eventually, Dean manages to peel himself away, gently gripping Castiel’s wrists, and all he can breathe is, “I love you.”

To which Castiel smiles and responds, “I love you too.” Dean presses their foreheads together, and Castiel steals another kiss, brief and indulgent. “I’ll see you in December, handsome.”

“Bye, gorgeous.”

Dean lets him go without any further fuss. Castiel is too happy to pay any attention to his very annoyed mother. He’s in love with a boy made of sunshine, and that glorious light loves him too.

There’s a little Victorian home in Portland, painted sage green with white trim, with a two car garage and a porch swing and a big backyard, and walls that are ready and waiting to hold unique, colorful paintings. Castiel can see it in his mind, and the thought of it gives him hope, but it will be quite a while yet before he actually finds it. 

That’s the ending. This moment, right here, is a new beginning.

 

_ Now I’ve got the strength to rise _ __  
_ So I’m pushing through the ceiling _ __  
_ We’ve all got a pulse inside _ _  
_ __ So follow the sound

**Hallowed** , La La Lush

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so around july of last year, i realized that what i had written for this chapter so far was complete garbage, and i ended up almost completely re-writing it. that was part of the delay. the other part was that in september, i got some bad news, which i'm still not willing to talk about - i'm a little superstitious about the idea that saying something aloud or putting it in writing puts that energy into the universe like a wish, whether you wanted it to happen or not, so i haven't said anything specific about this bad news since i got it. but it was the kind of news that, had it gone like i was afraid it would, i would not have been able to finish this fic. and that fear was strong enough that, for a while, i couldn't even look at this fic without crying. then in october i got more bad news that just sort of compounded that fear, and i was in such a state that i had to quit my very stressful job before i did something permanent and stupid; something had to give and i didn't want that something to be me. luckily, i was able to get a new job right away, and soon after decisions were made that helped ease my concern about what was going on, and about six weeks ago i was finally able to really start work on this fic again. quitting that new job earlier this month freed up my time to finish it. 
> 
> i'm not planning on staying unemployed, of course, and i'm not sure what my next job will look like, but as it stands now the bad news is behind me and my personal life is way better, so i'm seriously hoping it won't be another year before we see each other again :) i've made a change to part five, which you can get a hint at if you go to the series page, and if you have questions or comments, please come to [my tumblr](http://someoneworthfinding.tumblr.com) and drop me an ask!


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